Good Enough
by Tilea
Summary: Sequel to Tourniquet. Just as Miles and Franziska are recovering from their recent struggles and working through the remaining damages, a ghost from their past arises again to haunt them. This time, it's Miles who finds himself on the brink of death.
1. Chapter 1

Good Enough

(Well, it took me a while, but I'm finally ready to start posting the sequel I promised. I was stuck for a bit, but playing through the new game gave a new burst of inspiration and creativity, so I've been working on it again and felt it would be okay to go ahead and post something. So, here you go!

**Warning:** Rated for violence, graphic torture, language, and adult themes. READ TOURNIQUET FIRST!!!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters from Phoenix Wright; that's CapCom's property. However, I do own Phoenix Tilea and Ares Taylor. MINE!!!! laughs maniacally...for some reason...

Okay, hope you guys like this one!)

Chapter 1

"Fine then, Mr. Alex Jones. If you say the defendant was indeed at work when the murder occurred, then show me some evidence!"

The black-haired defense attorney adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, looking more and more nervous with each passing second. "Um, well…" he stammered. "It's… it's quite obvious, really. My client's boss signed a statement saying that Mr. Pierce works weekdays from eight AM to five PM with a lunch break from noon to one o'clock. His boss states that he did indeed work a full eight hours that day."

There was a soft buzz from the spectators' seats, but it was soon silenced by Franziska's mocking laugh. "Fool!" she shouted. "This type of thing requires _cold, hard_ evidence, and obviously you don't have it!"

It was at this time everyone would expect to see Franziska von Karma's dreaded whip lash out at the poor lawyer, but to the court's surprise, that harsh leather weapon was nowhere to be found. Her attitude was still in tact, however, so her opponents were only spared _physical_ pain.

"W-well, Miss von Karma," the lawyer stuttered. "C-can you prove he wasn't at work during the murder?"

There was another round of chattering, but Franziska quieted them again. "Of course I can, you foolish fool!"

Jones appeared to have been hit with a brick.

"I have here the defendant's time card," the young prosecutor stated. "According to the records, on the day of the murder the defendant clocked in at exactly eight o'clock, but did _not_ take his usual lunch break at noon. However…" She paused for a dramatic effect, savoring the anxiety of her opponent. "…Mr. Pierce did indeed only work eight hours that day, for he clocked out at exactly… FOUR PM!"

A collective gasp resounded throughout the courtroom.

"Do you see now!?" Franziska pounded her fist on the desk before her. "The murder occurred at 4:15, giving the defendant PLENTY of time to arrive home and MURDER Miss Keith! What do you have to say to that, Mr. Alex Jones!?"

"Uh… Geh…. Um…."

"Your Honor!"

"Y-yes, M-miss von Karma?" The judge's eyes had widened at being yelled at by the fired-up prosecutor.

"The defense has failed to provide ANY…" Her fist hit the wood again. "…sufficient proof to clear the defendant's name! I request that we bring an end to this useless waste of everyone's time!"

The judge blinked a few times, and then cleared his throat. "Ahem… I believe that Miss von Karma is correct."

"B-but, Your Honor-"

"Silence, Mr. Jones. I've made my decision."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Franziska stepped out of the courtroom with her head held high and her arms folded across her chest. That had been such an easy trial that she wasn't really sure if it even warranted pride, but she savored the victory nonetheless. This had been her first trial coming out of recovery, so she decided to just consider it a warm-up.

"Wasting no time in ripping them limb from limb, I see."

Franziska jumped a little as the voice reached her ears; she hadn't known that anyone was behind her. However, after the initial shock wore off, she smiled and turned around to see Miles Edgeworth striding toward her, his own grin playing on his lips.

"You don't know how badly I wanted to get back into court," she said, waiting for him to approach her.

"Of course I do," he stated, coming to stand in front of her. He placed his hands on either side of her hips and bent his head. "Great job in there, Babe."

She giggled a little and lowered her head a bit to hide her blush, but her arms were already draped over his shoulders. "I told you not to call me that."

"Can't help it," Miles replied softly, tilting his head slightly as she looked up again to finally kiss him. He really was proud of her; he hadn't been at all certain that she would continue her career as a prosecutor after what had happened to her. Sanders had sought vengeance against her for getting him convicted, and Miles felt that she was very brave for continuing to put people like that maniac behind bars. It was a sign of her strength, though he knew she had been doubting herself in that area lately.

Just then, his thoughts were interrupted by the fact that she was pulling away from him. Confused, he lifted his head and stared down at her. "Franziska, wha-"

"You're doing it again." She hadn't screamed at him, but she might as well have. Her voice had been low, but her tone was anything but soft. All traces of joy, pride, or affection had gone from her expression. She looked now hurt and angry.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, now a little nervous.

"Don't play ignorant with me!" She broke away from his touch, stepping a few paces back. "I can smell it on your breath! You promised me, Miles Edgeworth! You promised!"

"Franziska, I-" He couldn't think of an excuse, for there really was none.

"I don't believe this!" She whirled around with tears welling in her eyes and took off running in the opposite direction, the 'click-clack' of her heels slowly dying away as she fled around a corner and disappeared from view.

"Son of a bitch!" Miles roared, slamming his fist against a metal display case. Both sounds echoed several times in the empty corridor, giving Miles an immediate and inappropriate reminder of his anger.

Actually, anger wasn't really the word. If he was angry at anyone, it was himself. He was frustrated with his own actions and his own self-loathing. Why wouldn't it just go away?! The guilt was overpowering, and he just kept making it worse for himself. He had learned by now that the alcohol wouldn't take away his problems; it just seemed to create more. Worst of all, it was hurting her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Still, he just couldn't stop; he kept coming back to that bottle every time the memory forced itself before his mind's eye, the memory of that pistol, the blood, the 'bang', and then the darkness.

"Edgeworth?"

Slowly, Miles looked up to see Phoenix Wright standing a few yards down the hall, a large file folder on his left arm. He looked concerned and a little anxious. Miles didn't even bother glaring at him; he just continued to look depressed, his fist still resting against the cold steel case. "What is it, Wright?"

Phoenix stayed in place for a moment, and then walked toward him. "What's going on with you?" he asked as he reached the prosecutor. "What happened?"

"It's none of your business," Miles replied dryly, preparing to turn away.

"Well, I'm making it my business, Edgeworth?!" Before Miles could get away, Phoenix reached out with his free hand and grabbed his shoulder, forcing the prosecutor to face him. "Look, we're friends, and it's always my business when there's something wrong with my friends. I was there too, remember? There's nothing about what happened that I don't know about, so you don't have any reason to hide anything from me."

There was silence after he finished his little spill, but when Miles finally spoke, his gaze was fixed on the polished marble floor they stood upon. "Just…feeling guilty, I suppose."

"Guilty?" Phoenix raised an eyebrow. "For what?" The clueless lawyer couldn't possibly imagine what his friend had to feel guilty about, but he learned very quickly.

"I killed a man, Wright!" Edgeworth bellowed, pushing Phoenix's hand away from his shoulder. "It doesn't matter that he deserved it; I still took his life! And now Franziska is upset with me because I can't fuckin' stop drinking! Is that what you wanted to hear!?"

"N-no…" Wright replied honestly, staring in shock at the other man. It may have been the truth, but like many truths it wasn't pleasant. Edgeworth appeared to be on the verge of tears, and his face was red with anger; it really hurt to see him like this again.

It was all he could think to do: Phoenix replaced his hand on the prosecutor's shoulder, and the man lowered his head with a miserable sigh. He was tired: tired of hurting, tired of feeling guilty, tired of causing pain. His own self-hate had tricked him into believing that no one was on his side anymore, so he couldn't seem to fight against this friendly hand.

"Come on," said Wright. "My trial doesn't start for another hour. We'll go for a walk and you can talk to me if you like. It'll help you calm down."

Miles hesitated, mulling it over. Why not? It wasn't as if he had anyone to rush home to; he knew Franziska would probably have gone somewhere else until her anger subsided, and it wasn't as if he felt like working at all. He gave another heavy sigh. "All right," he muttered, turning and allowing Wright to lead him down the hallway past the elevators and toward the staircase.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"But… How can you be right? He's…"

"I thought so too." Phoenix Tilea closed her laptop and stood up, beginning to pack it away. "How do these lunatics keep getting out?"

Ares Taylor frowned and continued typing on his own portable computer. "They seem to be connected with the same people as well. Those two really pissed some psychos off."

"It seems a bit more complicated this time though," Phoenix mused, looking over the notes she had made.

Finally, Ares finished and closed his screen as well. "Sanders made it obvious who he wanted dead, and we were sure it would have been easy for him to figure out where Franziska was going to be on that particular night. That's why we were at the prosecutors' dinner. We were sure Sanders would expect to find her there, so we planned on apprehending him."

"We just didn't count on Miles being there with her; that was the only problem then," Phoenix said, still staring at the paper in her hand. "If he hadn't been, she would have stayed with us the entire time." She sighed and slipped the sheet into the leather case for her laptop. "I can't seem to work out how this one operates. I mean, he has strong ties to both of them; which one is he planning on going after?"

Ares sighed. "We need more information, which is something we don't have." He zipped up his leather briefcase and straightened up. "Do you think we should call them?"

Phoenix thought for a moment and then shook her head. "Not yet. If we call it'll only cause panic, especially since we don't know anything besides the fact that he's escaped."

Ares nodded slowly. "I suppose; let's just hope the media doesn't get a hold of this too quickly." He led the way to the door and they both exited the room carrying their cases with them.

(Well, that's the first one! Please review and let me know who's reading and what you think. It would be appreciated lots! Later guys!)


	2. Chapter 2

Good Enough

(Hey, everyone. I'm back already with the second chapter. The lines in bold-italics are song lyrics. Consider this my disclaimer; I don't own anythng Staind wrote, although that would be kinda' cool. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!)

Chapter 2

"_**Reply" by Staind**_

The last light in the house next door was finally extinguished, leaving only his house to show any sign of life. Miles stood alone in his over-polished kitchen, leaning up against the blue marble countertop near the sink, above which there was a single open window. The prosecutor stared out of it, seeing nothing now but impenetrable darkness. There was a cool breeze blowing in through it that caused his gray bangs to flutter slightly in front of his eyes. The only sounds he could hear now were the constant chirping of crickets and the occasional bark of a dog in the distance.

With a heavy sigh, Miles brought the black bottle to his lips again and took another swig of its contents. It burned fiercely all the way down, causing him to cringe a bit. Every time! This happened every time he took a drink, and yet he just kept doing it! And not only did it burn him physically, it caused immense emotional pain as well, and that was exactly the thing he had been trying to drive off with this dreadful poison!

_**I have seen  
Too many sad eyes look at me  
Eyes that set me free  
All the places that I've been**_

He set the thick glass bottle on the countertop beside him and leaned more heavily against the cold marble. He just couldn't shake it; every time he was left to his thoughts, the image returned to him. How was he supposed to live with himself now that he had stopped another human being from living? He couldn't seem to justify it to himself, even when the image of Franziska's beaten and broken body floated before his mind's eye. Sure, he felt hate for that man and knew fully well that he had deserved everything he got, but Miles couldn't stop thinking of himself as a murderer. Perhaps the further pain he kept causing himself was just his way of punishing himself just for the sake of closure.

A disturbance from another part of the house dragged him out of his thoughts. It sounded as if someone had come in, for he heard the closing of a heavy door from the entrance lobby of his rather large and expensive house. He distinctly remembered locking that door after coming in, so that meant it could only be one person. They had lately been discussing plans for her to move in with him, but so far they had only exchanged keys so that they could come and go in each other's place of residence as they pleased. He sighed and hung his head, not even bothering to go and greet her. No matter what he did, she'd know he was still drinking even after the little scene earlier that day.

"Miles?" he heard her voice ring out as she moved through the house. She hadn't yelled, only spoken loudly to see if he would answer. She didn't sound angry at all, but at the same time, her voice wasn't excited either.

_**Thank you for  
The letters that you thought you wrote in vain  
And for  
The times you chose to stand out in the rain  
And wait  
For me**_

It took about half a minute for her to find him, peering around the corner into the kitchen to see him standing there staring back at her. For a moment, he thought she'd start screaming at him or run off crying again, but her eyes only lingered on the bottle beside him for a moment before she stepped onto the shiny black tile floor.

"Why didn't you answer?" she asked, her voice quiet as if there was someone else in the house whom she wanted to leave out of their conversation.

_**For me**_

He watched her for a long time, trying to think straight. Why hadn't he answered her? He wasn't sure… Perhaps it had just been the shame in what he was doing that made him reluctant to call her to him. "I didn't hear you," he lied finally. "I was… thinking…"

Instinctively, Franziska opened her mouth to retort with some remark about him confusing the two rhyming words 'thinking' and 'drinking' in his 'influenced' state, but she closed it again, repressing the urge to scream at him and start another dispute. "W-well," she stammered slightly, doing all she could to control her emotions, "m-me too."

Surprised, Miles raised an eyebrow. "About what?" he wondered aloud, trying still to figure out why she hadn't hit him or something.

"About… us…" She looked very hesitant, as if she hadn't come up with exactly what she was trying to say just yet, though she had most likely been trying for some time.

"What…about us?" He was a little worried now, knowing these types of conversations didn't always end happily. He hadn't moved from where he had been standing, one hand resting in a slightly curved position right beside his whiskey bottle and the other nervously toying with his lace cravat, which—along with his suit--he had not even bothered to remove even in this late hour.

Franziska took a deep breath before speaking, obviously having trouble with this whole 'civil confrontation' thing. "Earlier," she began uncertainly. "I think… I think I might have overreacted a bit."

_**Your words  
Your words help me to see  
A little honesty  
In a world that doesn't share**_

"I beg your pardon." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The matter of his drinking had always been a touchy subject with her, and she had never thought any amount of anger toward him for it to be extreme.

"I mean," she said quickly. "I think… I might be going about this…the wrong way." She took a few steps toward him and then stopped again, still working on what to say next. "When we were in the hospital… and I had just woken up… I spoke to Tilea for a few minutes."

Miles gazed at her expectantly, sure he knew where this was going. He remembered clearly the words of wisdom and the warning she had given him before they had burst into Brad Sanders' hide out that had obviously proven to be quite true as of late. He remembered watching her transform in an instant from the empty and hardened Agent Tilea to the wise and more human woman known as Phoenix. So, had Franziska witnessed the same change in her as well?

"Tilea knew…even before I did… how I felt about you," Franziska started to explain. "I don't know how, but she did. She said something to me that I wasn't sure how to take, but now I think I understand what she meant."

"What…did she say?" Miles asked curiously, for some unknown reason eager to hear that girl's prediction about their relationship.

Franziska took in another deep breath, and then recounted her friend's words exactly as she remembered them.

"The feelings the two of you share are about to be put to the test, yet they are now more important than ever. You both have sacrificed something to save the life of the other, and while this will bring you closer, it can also drive you apart over time. Your love must run deeper than your sacrifice and deeper than your scars, else it will never survive the healing process. Instead of dwelling on your pain while you're here, I advise that you figure out why it is that you love him and hold fast to that truth, because the sea ahead is a rough one."

As he listened, he tried to understand. In a way, it made sense to him, but—he didn't know if it was the alcohol or just a plain lack of comprehension—something about it was strange. It sounded less like friendly words of advice and more like some kind of vague prophecy of sorts. What she had said to him had nearly the same sort of effect, but it was more straight forward, more based on career experience. According to some things that Tilea had said since they had gotten to know the two agents more personally had suggested that the state of being in love with someone was not an experience she had ever had.

"So, I think I've made a mistake."

Miles snapped back to attention again, having almost forgotten that there was someone else in the room. "What…do you mean… a mistake?" he inquired.

"I know that… you've been feeling guilty," Franziska began. "And… though I don't agree with your choice, I know that's why you… started doing this. However, instead of…trying to help, I've been selfish. I've just been… screaming at you and making you feel worse, so instead of stopping, you just feel like you have to drink more, which creates even more guilt." She said all of this slowly at first, but then began to speed up at the end. "It's… a cycle and… I've just been making it worse."

_**And your eyes  
Tell the story of your pain  
Severity of your disdain  
In a world that doesn't care**_

Miles gaped at her as she hung her head in what looked like shame. No… This wasn't her fault at all! He was the one being selfish, not her! He was suddenly angry and wasn't sure where the emotion had come from. "Don't _ever _say that again," he hissed dangerously, causing her to nearly back away from him.

She looked up to see the passionate fury in his gray eyes. He was now much tenser and had turned himself to face her slightly more, though he still leaned against the counter. The hand that had been resting on the marble had balled into a fist and his other hand was now down by his side, gripping the bottom lining of his jacket. He appeared as if he was on the verge of snarling at her, teeth bared, but his lips were still together at this point.

"W-well…" Franziska stammered, nearly backing away from him. "Th-that's how I feel about it. I feel like…part of the blame rests with me. I haven't really been supportive; I've just…yelled and…cried a lot…"

Once more, her head was lowered, but it snapped back up at the sudden sound of shattering glass. Her lips parted in shock as she saw that Miles had slammed the black bottle into the sink though it had still been about halfway full of liquid, reducing it to nothing but shards. She could now see that the slightly diluted drink was swirling down the drain, brown and visually unappealing. She then returned her gaze to Miles, who she realized, with a lurch, was coming at her.

_**So thank you for  
The letters that you thought you wrote in vain  
And for  
The times you chose to stand out in the rain  
And wait**_

Her primal instincts told her to flee, but he had a hold of her wrist before the message could fully translate to her entire body. However, she did have time to gasp before he pulled her to him, wrapping his free arm around the middle of her back and applying enough pressure to keep her there.

It took her a few moments to realize what had just happened and what was happening now. In just a split second, she had felt a number of different emotions. First, there had been fear, then guilt, then shock, amazement, fear again, and now… contentment. She remained tense as these thoughts sorted themselves out in her head, then her entire body visibly relaxed as she melted in his embrace. She rested her face against his shoulder, turning her head only enough to keep from suffocating herself in the expensive fabric of his red suit jacket.

Miles released her wrist and she brought her now freed hand up to rest on his shoulder next to her face while he placed his on her lower back. Franziska's other hand was now resting on Miles' right side, directly over the place where—not too long ago—there had been a gunshot wound. It had healed by now, but there was an obvious scar in its place, one that he was sure would never vanish. However, the pain had gone from it, and having her hand resting upon that spot was a vivid reminder to him of why it had existed at all. Twice had blood gushed freely from that spot, both times in fighting for her sake. So, why stop fighting for her now, even if it was against himself. He somehow felt that—even if the gesture was subconscious—the act of placing her hand upon it was a final plea to him for both their sakes.

_**You  
You understand my pain  
From this I gather strength  
In that we are the same**_

Miles began to rock gently side to side, taking her with him as he bent his neck to place his lips on the top of her head, kissing her once but not removing them. He continued to sway, taking in the fresh sent of her smooth light gray hair. It was wonderful, but he started to feel as if he was tainting the sent with his own breath, which still smelt of strong whiskey.

Then again, perhaps it was the other way around. Perhaps, instead of his strong self-corruption tainting her, her fresh innocence was purifying him. He breathed in again, taking in the sent, the purity. He prayed that what he was doing was not wrong, for he had already taken a part of her innocence from her once, and, in a sense, against her will.

_**So thank you for  
The letters that you thought you wrote in vain  
And for  
The times you chose to stand out in the rain  
And wait**_

His long bangs brushed against the top of her head lightly and he felt a shudder run through her. He could now see them in front of his eyes, dark gray: he was so far from innocence now, and it felt as if only a small bit of good remained in him. It was a stunning contrast with hers, which was a much lighter shade of the same color. Dispite her outward or public appearance and all she had seen and been through, she was so far from the darkness, still so young and barely tainted by the cruelty of the world around her.

_**The life I live would never be the same  
Without you here**_

These truths came to him in the time that they stood entwined in each other's arms, and he could never have guessed how long they stood there before Franziska lifted her face to his and they shared a tender kiss. When they pulled apart, he could vividly read the expression upon her face, and there was something uncomfortable in it. He knew what it meant, and he replied to her unspoken comment, whether she had been about to say it or not. "This is the last time," he said softly, moving the hand that had rested upon the middle of her back up to the back of her head, sliding his fingers into her hair, which had grown a couple of inches past her shoulders. "That was the last one in the house, and I don't plan on getting anymore."

She gazed into his eyes intensely, using all of her power of observation. No, this time the words weren't empty. She saw something there she hadn't the last time. The fact that the words "I promise" had not been added to that statement had no relevance at all; he meant it, and she knew it.

_**You here**_

"Would you… like some coffee?" he asked, knowing that neither of them had any intention of going to sleep any time soon even though it was dark out.

"I have a better idea," she whispers, her voice sending a shiver down his spine. She had pressed herself closer to him and lifted her head again, this time placing her warm, soft lips against his throat.

_**You here**_

Miles lifted his head in response, exposing the place as more chills surged through him, every muscle in his body slowly beginning to tense up as he felt his blood pulsing. The hand that had been entwined in her hair now closed around the back of her neck, and the fingers of his other hand applied intense pressure to the small of her back. He couldn't believe what she was suggesting, and wasn't sure if he should be feeling so excited, but it was impossible to resist.

_**Without you here**_


	3. Chapter 3

Good Enough

(I'm back again. Sorry, no lemon in this one. More of a lime I guess. I'm not good at that hardcore stuff at all, so I'm not even going to attempt it at the risk of losing the poetic style I try to acheive. Anyway, enjoy trying to figure out the German!)

Chapter 3

"Are you sure about this?"

"Guess there's only one way to find out."

The dim light from the lamp that perched upon a glass bedside table filled the room with a soft and gentle glow, giving only those objects in its closest vicinity enough light to appear detailed. The table was draped in a deep red cloth that was the same color as the comforter on the large bed it accompanied. There was a mahogany work desk in the corner of the room farthest from the light so that it was mostly a giant shadow, although it had its own light source sitting upon it, which was inactive at the moment. A polished dresser sat in the small space of wall between two doors on the left side of the room, a walk-in closet on one side of it and a master bathroom on the other side. All doors in the room were closed, and only two people occupied it.

Miles sat on the edge of his bed with Franziska across his lap. One arm was wrapped around her back and the other reached across her to place his hand on her hip. Her head lay on his shoulder and was turned at an angle so that, by turning his head to the side, he could continue to kiss her, and she could return them. Miles' jacket and cravat lay out of sight, leaving him in his long-sleeve, black shirt and red suit pants. Franziska, however, wore just a sleeveless, white gown that extended to her knees; it was made of silk, and Miles loved the feel of it, subconsciously working the material with his fingers as they sat there together.

Still, though this moment was passionate, there was uncertainty.

"I just don't want to hurt you again," he whispered.

"It doesn't matter," she replied with a little smile. "I asked for it." She gripped his shoulder tightly so that her nails dug in, giving him more violent chills. Soon after, he had removed his shirt, putting his scar into plain sight. Franziska ran her fingers along it, having only just realized how vivid it was. "Does it hurt?" she asked, wondering if her touch had brought back the pain.

"No," he whispered, easing her down to the mattress and beginning to unbutton her white, silken gown, still kissing her. "The pain is gone entirely."

This was the point at which he felt her flinch slightly and saw something flash across her expression. It was only brief, but he had caught it. "Are you sure?" he asked again in her ear.

She hesitated for a moment. She hadn't really expected to be able to hide it from him completely. In truth, she was frightened, and even more so now that he was starting to take control. However, she kept telling herself that there was a difference. Miles cared for her; he wasn't going to hurt her. "Yes," she answered in the same tone of voice. There was no other way to overcome her fear of him.

Miles watched her, thinking it over. No, she didn't look sure at all, but she was giving direct consent. 'Gently then,' he thought, hoping he understood properly. This was his chance to earn her trust.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_The loud clang of the metal bars reverberated off the bare walls, shattering the dead silence. The lack of light made it nearly impossible to see a thing, but there was no complaint. _

"_Komm! Schnell!" a rough voice hissed from out of the darkness. There was the sound of heavy boot falls and the jingling of keys as the bars were swung shut again._

"_Warum nimmst du zu viel Zeit?__" This second voice was deep and harsh, the man's impatience evident._

"_Ich erkläre später. Wir müssen jetzt gehen." The shadowed figures hurried along down the dark hallway, trying to avoid notice._

"_Hast Du die Vorbereitungen für meinen Flug __gemacht__?"_

"_Ja, Herr. Es ist getan worden."_

"_Gut."_

_A dark laugh sounded from the throat of the taller man whom had been the one to walk out of his cell. A low, menacing sound that sent a chill down the other man's spine, even though its malice was not directed at him._

"_Bereitest Du dizhvor, Miles Edgeworth, lebenzig zu brennen.__"_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miles sat bolt upright, his bangs plastered to the sides of his face with cold sweat. He was panting as his eyes darted to each corner of the dark room, trying to discern where exactly he was. There was no light to aid his frantic searching, but a noise and movement from beside him snapped him to attention.

A smaller hand found his and clasped it before a voice came to him from the darkness. "What is the matter?"

Yes, he knew that voice; he loved that voice. Finally coming to his senses, Miles slid back down onto his pillows, lying on his side to face her. "Nothing," he breathed, squeezing her hand and throwing his other arm around her shoulders. "Just a dream."

She gazed upward to where she knew his face to be, though she couldn't see it. Then, she sighed with content and laid her head against his bare chest. "You frightened me," she said, now noticing how tense she had actually been.

Miles chuckled, holding her closer to him. "It's nothing to be worried about," he reassured her. "It was only a dream."

Suddenly, he realized who he was speaking to, and it wasn't the woman in his arms. He was speaking mostly to himself, trying to convince himself of those words as he had done countless times in the past. However, that hadn't been his usual nightmare; he wasn't even sure why it scared him so much. It was that voice; it had to be that voice. He knew it, yet didn't want to recognize it. 'He's dead,' he told himself as he attempted to drift to sleep again. 'It's over now. There's no way it could be real.'

He shuddered, causing Franziska to grip his hand a little tighter. What had it meant? No, it didn't matter! It was only a dream. Still, that last sentence kept echoing in his mind, and he couldn't shake it.

Just then, the alarm clock on the table beside the bed began to beep obnoxiously, the green letters blinking 6:00. He felt Franziska lurch beneath his arm, taken completely by surprise. Miles groaned irritably and rolled over, pushing the button to turn it off. "Guess I panicked just in time," he said, stretching a little in preparation to force himself out of bed.

He finally managed to get up and headed into his adjoining bathroom, coming back out twenty minutes later after shaving and showering. He had begun to get dressed when he noticed that Franziska hadn't moved at all. He pulled on his black dress shirt and then came to her side. She opened her eyes and looked up at him upon sensing his presence above her. "You all right?" he asked, wondering why she hadn't gotten up yet.

She remained silent for a moment, and then took in a deep breath. "I'm…okay," she replied. "But… I don't think I'm going in today."

A frown crossed his visage as he remembered the last time she had stayed home from work aside from her recovery period. A bit nervous, he sat down at the end of the bed and turned to look at her again. "What's wrong?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"Nothing," she answered simply. "I'm just… really tired. I didn't sleep well. You weren't the only one being disturbed last night." She gave a slight grin, but noticed that he did not return it.

"Was it…" He paused. He needed to be sure. "Was it because of-"

She shook her head. "No," she said, finally sitting up and reaching to grab his hand. "Last night was… amazing." She smiled again, this time the gesture coming much more easily. He smiled as well, relief apparent in his face; he leaned forward and they engaged in a passionate kiss, now entwined in each other's arms.

"I should go," Miles reluctantly whispered after a rather long amount of time they couldn't measure. "Are you sure you're not coming in?"

"I'm sure." She sat back and swung her legs off the bed, standing up along with him. "I just don't think I can do it today. Yesterday was… exhausting."

He nodded, understanding how she felt. His first day back had not been easy either, and if the next day had not been a Saturday, he probably would have ended up skipping work as well. "Do you want me to take you home?" he offered.

She shook her head again. "I'll be okay. You go ahead." She kissed him once more.

He nodded. "See you this afternoon then," he said, before turning toward his bedroom door. "Get some rest." With that, he exited, leaving her to gather her things.


	4. Chapter 4

Good Enough

(And here's another one. Sorry about the wait: my computer got hacked and they spread a worm throughout my entire hard drive. So, the guy who fixed it had no choice but to wipe the whole thing and I lost ALL of the files and programs I had on this thing. Fortunately, I backed up my Fan Fiction folder on a flash drive, so I still have my stories. Good thing too or I would've killed something! That's FOUR YEARS worth of work I'd have lost.

Anyway, here's chapter 4. Mystery dispelled!)

Chapter 4

"Look, Mr. Edgeworth, I just-"

"I said I don't want to hear it! Get out of my office!"

"Mr. Edgeworth-"

"OUT!"

Looking a bit shaken and frustrated, the man sighed and turned to leave, closing the office door behind him. Miles sighed as well and put his head down on the desk. He had come to work in a rather pleasant mood, though he had been a bit worried about Franziska. However, he had found himself dealing with an overwhelming number of morons on this particular Wednesday morning, which had succeeded in making him very irritable by eleven o'clock. His head now rested on a manila folder that contained an extensive case file that he had been poring over all morning—in between stupid questions that is.

Just then, the phone rang. Miles growled viciously to himself, and didn't immediately move to answer it. 'I fuckin' swear to God… Whoever this is… they're about to get an ear full…"

"What?" he said upon picking up the receiver.

"Hey, Mr. Edgeworth!" came an excited female voice from the other end of the phone. "That's not a very nice way to answer your office phone; what if I had been someone important… like the governor or something?"

It took all of his self-control to keep from groaning out loud as he put his head back against the back of his chair. "Well, Maya, if you were the governor I think I'd be on the next plane back to Germany."

Maya laughed. "Oh, it wouldn't be that bad! I know stuff about politics! Come on, just ask me anything!"

Miles sighed again. "Maya, I-"

"No really! Just ask me a question about politics!"

Miles frowned in annoyance. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to be feeling. Part of him was about to explode, unable to handle the level of irritation she had pushed him to, but the other part of him was relieved to have this rediculous conversation with someone who he didn't expect efficient and professional knowledge from. "Can you even tell me who the mayor is?"

There was a long moment of silence, and Edgeworth vividly remembered the crickets he had been listening to the night before while standing in his kitchen. "Well… the mayor isn't really important," she finally replied. "Besides, I'm not from here; I'm from Kurain, remember!?"

"Sure…"

"Besides, if I just took a few classes…" Suddenly, her voice underwent a startling change, which made Miles cringe. "…I could be da' next govanator!"

Miles blinked, trying to comprehend what had just happened. It had sounded like a crude mix between German, French, and Sylvester Stallone. "Um… Please… don't even do that again… I beg of you…"

"Aw, was it really that bad?" She sounded genuinely disappointed.

"Look, I don't mean to sound rude, but why are you calling me at work?" He had almost asked, 'Why are you calling me?" and left it at that, but something told him the conversation would have extended in length if he had.

"Oh!" She had obviously completely forgotten. "Nick and I saw something on the news that we thought you might be interested in."

"Oh really…?" He frowned. "And why didn't Wright just call me?"

Maya giggled. "He said you'd just hang up on him if you happened to be in a bad mood after your fight with Ms. von Karma."

Miles' frown deepened, but he didn't say anything.

"So, he had me call. You couldn't hang up on cute little me, could you?!"

"I don't know," Edgeworth replied, his frown now becoming something resembling a smirk. "Let's find out." He began to move the phone away from his ear and place it back on its cradle, but a loud cry of "WAIT!" from the speaker caused him to reluctantly bring it back up. "What?!"

"It's really important!" she nearly whined, now sounding desperate.

"Then why haven't you told me yet?!" he inquired with frustration.

"What?! Am I supposed to just come right out and say, 'Manfred von Karma escaped from prison!'? That wouldn't have been a very nice way to begin a conversation with a-"

"Stop!" He was now sitting bolt-upright in his chair, his eyes wide and fully alert. "What… What d-did you just say?"

"Oh!" Maya laughed. "Sorry about that. I said that Manfred von Karma escaped from prison really early yesterday morning. The media didn't find out until just a few minutes ago. The lady was all like, 'Breaking news from just outside Los Angeles, California-'"

"Let me speak with Wright!" His heart was racing now, and he didn't care about how she would react to being yelled at.

"Um… Okay. NICK!!!!"

Miles cringed and held the phone at arm's length as she hollered, having not even bothered to turn away from her phone. In a moment, a male voice came over the line, sounding much less light-hearted.

"Hey, Edgeworth," Phoenix Wright greeted his companion. "I guess Maya told you the news. She seems a bit… happy, don't you think…?"

"Wright, this has to be some mistake!" He was obviously panicking. "Please… I-Is there anything you can tell me!?"

"Woah, woah, woah… Just hold on a secon-"

"Wright! This is serious!" He was standing up now. "Do they know where he is?! How did he get out!? I thought… I thought he was…"

"Panicking isn't going to help the situation, Edgeworth!" Phoenix found himself having to yell to make the prosecutor listen to him. "Just chill out for half a second!"

Miles' breathing was quick and shallow, but he tried to calm himself enough to sit down again. "Please… Is there anything… you can tell me….?"

"Look…" The defense attorney was having a bit of trouble now. "They… don't know where he is or how he escaped, but every detective and police officer in the city is looking for him. Just stay calm and don't go anywhere alone. To be safe, you and Franziska should probably head to a hotel after work so that you're not-"

"Franziska!" Miles felt as if an iron clamp had closed around his throat. "Wright, I have to go!" Without giving the other man a chance to argue, Miles pushed the button down on the cradle that would disconnect his current call and start him off at a dial tone again. He first dialed his home number, unsure if she would have left yet or not. When he got no answer, he tried her house.

With each ring his throat seemed to become drier and his chest tighter, until half-way through the fourth ring, the call was answered.

"M-Miles?"

"Franziska!" An enormous amount of relief swept over him, but he was still very tense. "Franziska, are you all right? I just heard-"

"Miles… There's… There's somebody here…" It was only now that he noticed how quietly she was speaking and how choked with fear her voice sounded.

"Oh my God…" He felt as if he would be sick. "Franziska, get out of there now. Go… Go out the back door and start running. I'll be on m-"

A sharp scream cut him off and he heard the sound of the phone being dropped. To his horror, he heard a deep, male voice yelling something in German, which he could not make out for it was muffled. The phone must have been dropped with the mic facing the floor. However, he could clearly hear Franziska's terrified screams.

"_Miles! Hilf Mir! Miles!"_

Without even bothering to make sure it landed properly, Miles threw the phone down and moved out from behind his desk. He didn't think to grab any of his things as he bolted out of his office, sprinting down the hallway toward the stairs and elevator. For a moment, he turned to take the stairs as he always did, but somehow logic broke through his panic. No… The elevator would get him there faster, no matter how much he hated it. Thinking solely of his goal, Miles ran into the already open elevator door, hitting the ground floor button much harder than was necessary.

As the machine started to move downward, Miles gripped the side bar with his right hand so firmly that his knuckles began to turn white. Every muscle in his body was tense and he was shaking violently. It took everything he had not to lose his balance or start hyperventilating. The ride seemed to take forever, and the other person in the lift stared at him the whole time. "Um… S-sir? Are you-?"

A light 'ding' signaled their arrival and Miles exited before the doors had even opened all the way. He ignored all the stares he received as he sprinted the last length of space between him and his red sports car. He jumped in and started it up, screeching out of the parking lot and onto the main road, not even paying attention to the speed at which he was going. If a cop decided to pursue him, they'd have to chase him all the way back to Franziska's house, and maybe then he'd have a better chance at saving her.

Her terrified screams kept echoing in his head, which he shook fiercely to clear. He couldn't think about what was happening; he just needed to get there. He barely even noticed the scenery as the vehicle zoomed along the highway, rapidly switching lanes to go around slower-moving objects that he felt were getting in his way.

"I fucking swear on my father's grave, if he harms a single hair on her head, I will slaughter that son of a bitch!"


	5. Chapter 5

Good Enough

(Here's the next update. The one after this won't be up for about a week because I'm going away fro the Thanks Giving holiday and then I'm going up north to stay for a month. I'll have a computer then though, so never fear. Anyway, hope you like this one, and hope those I've been missing will come back to read and review soon.)

Chapter 5

He had barely turned off the ignition before his car door was flung open and he practically threw himself out of it. He dashed to the front door and tried to turn the knob, realizing quickly that it was locked. He still held his keys in his hand, so it didn't take long for this problem to be rectified. He threw the door open and stepped inside, hearing no sound from within.

"Franziska!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "Franziska! Answer me!"

Nothing…

His heart pounding in his throat, he began to move through the house, opening every door and searching every room until he finally came to one that was locked. Half hoping she would be in here and half terrified at what he would see if she was, he began to ram his shoulder against the wood. It wasn't too difficult to break open and he stepped in to glance around.

The room wasn't very big; it was set up as an office. There were no windows in the room, but the overhead light was on. Across from the door in a corner was a large wooden chest and to the left of the door was a large corner desk upon which sat a computer monitor that faced away from the entrance. And, behind the computer desk sat…

"Franziska!" Miles moved toward her, horrified. She was bound to the office chair and there was enough tape over her mouth to keep her from speaking at all. She looked utterly frightened and shook her head violently as he came toward her.

Miles didn't seem to notice this gesture and came right over, reaching out and ripping the tape away from her face. She gasped, but spoke immediately, her voice choked and shaking. "Miles, no! I-It's a trap!"

"Wha-"

Before he could even react, he felt someone take hold of him from behind. A damp cloth was placed firmly over his nose and mouth and he was pulled backward. He heard Franziska screaming something, but in his sudden panic he couldn't understand her. He fought against his attacker who was pulling him back and forcing him to lean down against the hand that held the cloth. It didn't take long for the drug to take effect and Miles began to lose consciousness. Within a half a minute of the struggle's start, it was over and Miles was limp in the other man's grasp.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Agent Taylor moved along the wall silently with a pistol held out in front of him, listening for any sign of motion in the house. It was completely silent and had been since they had arrived.

Suddenly, a sound from nearby caused him to freeze and cock his gun in warning, but a voice from around the corner stopped him.

"It's just me," came the whisper from Agent Tilea, who shortly made her way into his line of vision. "Anywhere we haven't checked?"

"Just that hallway," he replied in the same low voice. "Honestly, I don't see why she'd still be here."

"We can't take any chances." Tilea turned and led the way, only two doors left to check, and one of them was open.

They both moved forward, Tilea stepping into the open door and Ares checking the other, which was revealed to be nothing but a linen closet. He searched beneath the piled blankets just in case and then moved to stand beside Phoenix. "I don't see anything in here either," he muttered, glancing around the small office.

Without saying a word, Phoenix moved forward and stepped around the desk, looking down at the floor and then back up at her partner. "I do," she replied, causing him to quickly come to her side.

On the floor lay Franziska, curled into a ball with her right hand still tied to one of the arms of the chair. Tilea reached forward and snapped the rope in two, then crouched beside the woman of about the same age as herself. Ares stood over them watching. "Is she alive?" he questioned, only a small amount of his anxiety showing through onto his naturally pale face.

Tilea placed two fingers against the other woman's neck then looked back up. "Yes," she replied. "She's just unconscious, and judging by these bruises…" She paused and held up Franziska's arm slightly to show Ares what she meant. "…she was roughed up pretty bad."

"I've already talked to some people at the Prosecution Offices; nobody even saw her come in today, but they all said that they saw Mr. Edgeworth fly out of there in a hurry."

"And when did you do this?" Tilea asked as she carefully lifted Franziska from the floor.

"While you were on the phone with Kaider setting up arrangements." Ares had his cell phone up and pushed a button on the side of it. It gave a beep to indicate it had connected and he spoke, using it like a radio. "Send the chopper in; we've found von Karma."

"_Which one?" _came a voice from the communicator, a bit distorted by interference.

"Franziska," Ares replied. "No one expects to find our escapee so quickly."

"_All right, kid. We're coming in then."_

Ares then looked back at Phoenix, speaking as if their conversation had gone uninterrupted. "Some that I spoke to seemed to feel it was important to tell me that he used the elevator. Apparently no one has ever seen him do that before, even though he works on the twelfth floor of the building."

Phoenix nodded. "I've done some looking into it. You know how I am about that," she added with a bit of a smirk. "Anyway, it is pretty strange. It's a major phobia of his for good reasons, so he must've really been in a hurry to get out of there."

Hearing the sound of the small copter getting closer, Ares began to lead the way out, Tilea following behind him carrying Franziska. "Then… do you think he found out and knew she would be in danger?"

"Well, it did end up getting to the media," Tilea commented, frowning a bit. "I suppose someone relayed the news to him."

"Big mistake…" Ares said with a sigh. "We could have caught him here, but now he's gone and so is Miles…"

Nothing more was said as they walked from the house to the helicopter. They weren't allowed to show it, but they were both worried for reasons that ran deeper than the concern for things that applied to their jobs. It didn't usually happen, but for some reason, both of them had taken to Miles Edgeworth and Franziska von Karma. The two young agents had been through a good many situations, seen so much, but the rescue mission they had taken on just a few months ago that had crossed their paths had been something else. Sure, they had dealt with couples before, a missing wife or girlfriend and a concerned spouse, or vice-versa, but that time, there had been something personal in it for Phoenix and Ares. Neither could figure out what it had been that had caused it, but after all was said and done they had gotten to know the two prosecutors as friends instead of just another part of the job.

They boarded the chopper and Tilea strapped Franziska in on the gurney they had prepared. They were soon up in the air and headed away. Ares sat up front with the pilot and Phoenix stayed in the back, watching to make sure the other woman was all right.

"You really think this is necessary?" the man flying the machine asked Ares. "I mean, he's probably out of the country now; after they get her fixed up she should be fine to go home."

Ares shook his head. "If she is released, she will indeed go home, meaning back to Germany. We are making sure she doesn't go and get herself killed trying to rescue him."

The other man nodded, but didn't speak again.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_Wielange davert es noch?__"_

"_Keine Angst mein Herr. Wir sind gleich da.__"_

Those voices… They seemed so far off, but… the atmosphere was so thick that it was impossible. He knew he was in an enclosed space, so the voices had to be close…

"_Sind Sie sicher keine person uns gefolgt hat?__"_

"_Naturlich, mein Herr.__"_

Yes… They sounded closer now, much closer. One seemed to be right over him… almost… They were moving: he could feel the light bumps from time to time as the vehicle rolled along. But… he wasn't riding like everyone else was; he didn't have a seat for himself. He was lying down… on something hard, something rough below him. It was carpet, the type that would be found in a car or… some other kind of automobile. So, the floor? He was lying on the floor of something that was driving… somewhere, and there were other men… speaking German? Yes, it was German; he was sure of it!

Miles slowly opened his eyes, immediately seeing the rough gray carpet he lay upon and the bottom of a black leather seat. His breathing became a bit heavy as he became more awake and began to try and move. His head was throbbing and his face was covered in a cold sweat, but he turned it to try and look around, grateful for the absence of sunlight coming in the windows above. Since it was dark out, he had to rely on the brief light from the street lamps that lined the road to get glimpses of his surroundings, and he finally managed to put something together.

He was indeed lying on the floor of what appeared to be a large van with three rows of seats. He lay against the front two and faced the middle section where there sat a man in a business suit he did not recognize. Miles' hands were bound in front of him and his entire body ached, and though this seemed a minimal restriction, he could barely bring himself to move. He could not see what was behind this middle section of seats from where he lay.

The man he had been looking up at seemed to notice his change in breathing and looked down at him. "Keep quiet, Boy," he said in a dark tone that was just loud enough for Miles to hear, the natural harshness of the German accent making this command sound even more forceful. As he spoke, he moved his right hand slightly, making Miles aware that it clasped a black nightstick on the seat beside him.

Unable to face what was happening to him, he closed his eyes again and turned his face back toward the floor, giving no protest and simply wishing he were dreaming. Unfortunately, that was impossible; he was in too much pain to be stuck in a nightmare.

There was no way of telling for how long the van continued to glide along full of silent passengers, but eventually it began to decrease in speed as it went around what seemed to be a spiraling pathway from what Miles could tell. Finally, they came to a stop. A few of the men inside started to talk, muttering quick comments or instructions to each other. However, only one voice stood out to him, and it made his stomach churn to hear it again. How could this be real? How could this not be a terrible nightmare like all of his others? It seemed so impossible, yet it was happening all the same.

He lurched as he felt hands grasp his shoulders and pull him into a sitting position, then push him toward the open sliding door. A second man—who was already standing outside the van--grabbed hold of the metal link of the handcuffs Miles wore and began to pull him forward. He didn't resist or speak a word, and soon they had him on his feet with a man on either side of him and two more behind. The one who had been pulling at the cuffs still held the link, guiding him along, and he could tell by a distinct 'click' sound from behind him and a bit of pressure against the back of his neck that he was being held at gun point. He hadn't seen the man whose voice he had recognized, and assumed he was walking behind, but Miles didn't dare turn to look. He simply allowed himself to be led along, keeping his head down and mouth closed.


	6. Chapter 6

Good Enough

(Sorry, this chapter is kind of slow, but it is necessary. The next one picks up though, I promise. Please enjoy and send me your reviews!)

Chapter 6

_Seven-year-old Franziska von Karma sat alone in an office chair in the corner of her rather empty bedroom. In front of the chair was a small desk with books and papers piled upon it, but she wasn't facing that. The only other things that accompanied her in the room were a twin bed and a mahogany dresser, each on opposite walls to her left and right. There was really no need for anything else; she had all the necessities, and that's all she cared to have._

_But of course, she wasn't observing her room; something so plain and simple only needed to be looked over once and never considered again. She sat with her left elbow on the desk and the chair turned sideways; her face was hidden in her hands, and her body shook with sobs. They were nearly silent, for if she was heard from outside of the room, things would only get worse. There were dark bruises running up both of her arms, and had her face been visible, more bruises would be quite noticeable. _

_The child always tried not to cry when it happened, and sometimes when it wasn't so bad, she managed to stop herself, but it hurt too much now. She couldn't keep the tears back; the best she could do was keep quiet. She wanted to scream, to call for help, but that would aid her in no way and she knew it._

_At first, she thought she was imagining it, so she did not respond to the light 'tap tap tap' sound she heard. However, it seemed to grow louder causing her to finally lift her head and look over at her closed bedroom door. She just sat there staring at it as if her brain had momentarily hit pause, not allowing her to understand what the sound was._

"_Franziska?" came a voice from the other side of the door. It sounded uncertain, but friendly. Still, she didn't respond. She knew who was there, but she didn't really care to have him come in._

_Finally, the door simply opened and fourteen-year-old Miles Edgeworth peered around it, a questioning and cautious expression on his face. When he didn't hear anyone scream at him for just walking in, he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped in, still prepared to defend himself should she decide to throw something or start yelling. Naturally, he was rather concerned when neither happened. _

"_Franziska?" he said again, watching her with apprehension. She hadn't said a word and she was crying; this just wasn't right. He moved forward slowly until he stood right in front of the girl. He reached out and lightly touched one of the dark bruises on her upper arm, causing her to jump a bit. "A-Are you… all right?" he asked, still expecting to be snapped at any second._

_She just looked up at him, though her expression had changed. "What?" she asked before she could stop herself._

"_Are you… all right?" he repeated. "You… uh… don't look… so good… I-I mean you…" _

_She opened her mouth, looking like she was about to snap at him, but she closed it again. Something strange was going on inside her head, preventing her from doing so. "Um… I… I'm okay…" She paused. "…F-Fool…" It didn't sound right at all, the way she had said it; the smirk he was trying to hide told her that._

"_Did you know you're bleeding?" he asked, looking at a dark red spot on her cheek._

_She looked surprised for a moment, peering down at her hands and seeing traces of red from where she had touched the wound unknowingly, but then tried to recover. "Oh… Of c-course I did," she said, unconvincingly. "It's no big deal. I'm not hurt…"_

"_Well…" He hesitated, unsure if he should ask or not. "What… what happened. Why did he-?"_

"_Look out!"_

_Before he could react, a loud 'CRACK' rang throughout the room and Miles was laid out flat, not even having a chance to cry out in pain before losing consciousness. Franziska stared up in horror at the man towering over her holding a polished dark wood cane in his left hand. She couldn't speak, she couldn't scream._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Any serious injuries?"

"No, just pretty banged up. She'll be fine with some rest."

"Well, she's been through much worse, so I'm not worried."

Franziska opened her eyes half way, allowing the fluorescent light to invade the darkness. The scene was blurry, so blurry that she couldn't even tell where she might be. She was lying on her stomach on a bed covered in what must have been multiple blankets. There were voices and sounds all around her, none of which she could understand.

She blinked a few times, but her vision wouldn't be cleared so easily. She tried to look around, and something—or someone—immediately caught her attention. She could see his profile, but there wasn't much about him she could recognize, accept his hair. It was gray and looked to fall on either side of the man's face, though she couldn't see his face very well. He was about ten yards away speaking with someone, but she couldn't hear his voice.

She wasn't sure, but her hope made her do it. "Miles," she said, her voice a bit raspy and weak, barely carrying over all the noise in the room. The man didn't seem to hear her, so she spoke again, this time louder. "Miles."

There was a pause, and then the man turned to look over at her, revealing a face younger and much different than the man whose visage she had hoped to see. However, she recognized him as he began to move over to her, weaving through the various obstacles in the room. "You're awake," he said when he came within a short distance of her.

She looked at him with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. Now that she was getting a good look at him, she wasn't sure how she could have confused Ares with Miles at all. Sure, the hair style was similar, but Ares' bangs were an inch or two shorter and his hair was a lighter shade. Also, this boy was smaller in stature, looking rather underweight in her opinion. However. Ares didn't even mention her mistake as he finally reached her bedside, nor did he look surprised. She figured that he must have realized the slight resemblance before and knew the position she was in.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, taking a seat in the chair facing her bed. He was leaning forward slightly as he spoke, so that he wouldn't have to raise his voice for it to reach her over the other conversations in the room.

She lay her head back down with a sigh. She was glad to see Ares; this meant she was in a safe place, but she had really been hoping to see Miles there. Perhaps that was why she had made the mistake; she was so desperate that her mind was playing tricks on her. "What's going on?" she muttered, not even bothering to answer his question.

"Tilea and I found you and brought you down here to HQ Medical. You'll be safe here, though we're pretty sure he's not coming back." This news would have normally given her relief, but the look on the young man's face told her that this was indeed a bad situation.

"Wh-where's…?" She remembered vividly what had happened back there before she had finally blacked out, watching her father drug Miles and then have him dragged out by another man while she was beaten to unconsciousness… She was expecting the worst.

Ares lowered his head with a sigh, then looked back up. "We're… not sure," he replied regretfully. "Your father headed out of the country on a private jet; we believe Miles Edgeworth was on that jet with him. They managed to jam our radars, so we don't know where they landed, or even if they've landed at all."

Franziska gave a miserable groan and a sob shook her. "M-Miles… No…." She couldn't believe this was happening. Her father was supposed to be gone... forever… But his sentence had apparently not been carried out yet and he had managed to escape. Now, he had Miles and no one had any idea where he was.

"We'll find him," Ares said, watching her with pity. "Phoenix is sparing no expense to track them down and get Miles back alive. In the mean time, we need you to stay here and recover. I promise we'll let you know if we find anything."

She didn't respond at all, though she had been listening to him. She was horrified at the thought of what was happening to him… Her father had been violent toward him on occasion when they were growing up, but most of his abuse had been verbal. However, now there was something else there; Miles knew Manfred's fault in his father's death and Manfred surely hated Miles for being a part of exposing him as a murderer. She found herself doubting that he would survive very long…

With a small sigh, Ares stood up. "Don't lose hope," he said, preparing to walk away. "Miles never doubted your strength to just hold on long enough for us to get to you. You should give him the same faith."

Franziska raised her head as he walked away, staring after him with her lips slightly parted in shock.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As he stepped onto the first stair to descend into what appeared to be pure blackness, Miles felt two of the men leave the group and head in a different direction. The man that was leading him stayed, keeping a grip on the handcuffs and walking in front of him, and one still walked behind him, pressing the barrel of a gun to the base of his skull. The smell wafting up from this dark basement area was overpowering and disgusting. It smelled as if the place was coated in mold and rot, and the air was so moist that it almost felt as if he had stepped outside into a drizzle.

When they reached the bottom landing, the man leading Miles flipped a switch on the wall beside the staircase, causing a few gas-powered wall torches to light in various locations around the dank chamber. They offered little light, but enough to see the contents of the room, although it took his eyes a moment to adjust to this type of luminescence.

"Welcome to your new home, Boy," said the man leading him with a smirk. He watched as Miles half-heartedly glanced around and lowered his head again. The German man laughed with enjoyment at the young man's apparent fear. He pulled him forward again and walked toward one of the support beams at the far end of the room, which appeared to be the only things occupying it besides the torches. As they came to it, he forced Miles to turn around so that his back faced the column, and the handcuffs were unlocked and removed. "On your knees," he commanded.

Miles could finally see the unfamiliar man with the gun, which was now being held merely a foot from his face. He felt frozen, unable to move in order to follow the first's instructions. He just stared down the gun, his mind numb with terror at what was happening.

BANG!

Feeling as if his heart had nearly burst from his ribs, Miles fell to his knees, the laughter of the two men now ringing through the otherwise empty basement. "A bit gun shy, _Dieser__ Hund!_ He has not been trained properly, I see."

His head was lowered so that they could not see, but Miles bared his teeth in anger as his blood boiled. However, there was nothing he could do; he was trapped and did not have the means to defend himself. They chained him to the column and then left him alone, heading back up the stairs and closing the door at the top. He heard a click signaling that it had been locked from the outside, and then there was silence.

A shiver ran through his body, partly due to the chill temperature around him and also due to the fear. There was fear for his own sake of course, but as usual there was someone else on his mind as well.

"Franziska…" He muttered the word in a miserable groan, remembering how he had found her before being attacked. For all he knew, she could have been killed after he blacked out, but he couldn't bear that thought. She had to be alive somehow, yet he found himself hoping that she wouldn't come looking for him. Coming to her rescue had nearly gotten him killed once and this time it had gotten him here; if something happened to her while trying to rescue him, he'd never forgive himself. She had already saved his life once, and it had traumatized her; he knew that he was entirely responsible for that and had no desire to be the cause of more damage or even death.

He raised his head to gaze into one of the torches, these fires seeming to make the room even colder despite the laws of matter and energy. How ironic: something that seemed to provide a little bit of light in the darkness was only making it that much heavier.

He lowered his head again, feeling absolutely doomed. If even the lights in this forsaken tomb were evil, what hope did he have?


	7. Chapter 7

Good Enough

(Here's another update, and this story is about to get a lot darker. Here's where the torture warning comes in; I've done the best I can to make Manfred von Karma EVIL! Sorry if some of you don't like that, but hopefully you'll still enjoy the story to some degree. Please review and let me know you're reading and enjoy!)

Chapter 7

Miles lifted his head slowly as he heard the door to the basement open and footsteps coming down the stairs. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he was first brought down here, but his body was very sore from being in the same knelt position for so long. Now it seemed he finally had a 'visitor', a prospect that wasn't all that exciting in the current situation.

He saw the silhouette of a very tall man come into his view, unclear in the dim light. However, the figure held something in his left hand, a long stick-like object that reached the floor. Miles felt as if he had just dropped about ten feet as he recognized what it was and who was holding it, the memories he had already been reliving while waiting down here now coming to him more vividly than ever.

"_Guten Abend, Miles Edgeworth."_

So, it was around dusk now? He had no way of knowing.

The man took another step forward, and suddenly his face was illuminated in the firelight, putting a dreaded face with that dreaded voice. The face of Manfred von Karma loomed over Miles, a smirk upon its lips as the man took a moment to enjoy the sight before him. Von Karma looked much older than he had the last time Miles had seen him; this was no doubt a result of his time spent in prison. However, it did not make him look any less threatening; in fact, the firelight on his paled complexion succeeded in making him look like a particularly frightening ghost. How appropriate!

"I must thank you for your cooperation," came that sinister, deep voice again. "Although, I must admit I was a bit disappointed. I had expected more of a fight from you."

"You were never one to play games, Manfred von Karma," Miles muttered just loud enough for the other man to hear him. "So what it is that I've been dragged here for?"

An evil laugh that Miles knew all too well sent a chill down his spine. "You are correct, Miles Edgeworth; I do not intend to play with you at all. However…" He moved forward again until he stood right in front of his captive. "…I do plan to enjoy myself while you're here."

Due to the lack of light he didn't see it coming, though he wouldn't have been able to stop it even if he had. The sound of wood smashing against bone echoed numerous times throughout the empty chamber as the familiar pain Miles had come to associate with the oaken cane in Manfred's hand surged through his head. His senses reeled and he felt for a moment as if he'd pass out, but the darkness began to clear away as quickly as it had come. He heard that voice from over him again, and at first it sounded very far away, though soon his hearing returned as well.

"Did you think it would be that easy, Miles Edgeworth?" For the first time since he had come into the basement, Manfred now sounded angry. "Did you think that by hiding behind that pathetic defense attorney, you would be rid of me forever?"

Miles gasped in pain as the cane connected with his ribs.

"Or perhaps you did mean to take precautions. Perhaps my daughter reminded you too much of me, even though she could never compare. To ensure your victory, you took control of Franziska and tore away what little strength she might have had. You somehow managed to turn a von Karma into something you could possess and use, thus giving you the false delusion that you had proved yourself superior to me."

Miles coughed as he was hit in the ribs for a second time. He couldn't understand how that weapon could be hard enough to break him like it did, but he was sure a bone had just been cracked.

"Well, what do you have to say, Boy?!"

"You don't even know the half of it…" Keeping his mouth shut was going to help him none this time, so why not defend himself the only way he could in his current position? "Unlike you, I understand that there is more to life than victory and defeat."

There was a moment of silence, and then von Karma spoke again. "What was that, Boy? I don't think I heard you properly." The oak cane seemed to gleam in the firelight.

Miles raised his head despite his pain and spoke as clearly and forcefully as possible. "You're wrong. You've always been wrong."

That sinister laugh came again, but this time, von Karma moved past him. He felt the chains binding him move a bit, and they suddenly fell away. Confused, he turned his head to look back at the other man, seeing that his smirk had returned.

"So, you do have some fight in you after all." Manfred was standing back, as if inviting Miles to rise. "This may yet be interesting."

Well… maybe if he was lucky he could fight his way out, though he was sure this was some kind of trap. Having a bit of trouble, for he was incredibly stiff and sore, Miles pushed himself up off the floor, turning to face his enemy. The man was nearing seventy years old; he couldn't possibly be able to overpower a much younger man in decent physical condition… right?

"Well, Boy, the chains are gone." Von Karma took a step forward. "Speak your mind. What am I so wrong about?"

Miles kept a close watch on him, ready to move if he had to. "You've never understood," he said, still speaking no louder than was necessary. "You don't know a thing about me or why I do what I do; you don't even know your own daughter."

"Is that so?" Manfred laughed a little and began to walk, passing Miles and continuing to pace the room. "Would you care to elaborate on such a bold statement?"

"You've already proved it yourself with your ridiculous assumptions," Miles began. "You seem to think I've always been plotting against you somehow, but you're the only one who spent those fifteen years scheming.. It was you who wished for my demise, not the other way around. You caused your own downfall; it was no fault of mine. And, as for Franziska…" He paused, seeing Manfred stop walking and lean up against the wall right beside one of the sconces that held the room's light source. The old man seemed to be quite interested in this part of Miles' speech. "…You're so convinced that she is like you, it's almost amusing. All those years you spent trying to shape her every thought and belief, trying to lay out a strict path for her to follow… It was all wasted effort. I can confidently say that I know Franziska better than anyone, and she reminds me nothing of you. The only thing I've done is to help her see that. If that is wrong, well then consider me a proud sinner."

"You say you helped her?" He began to walk again moving back toward Miles but still maintaining a distance of a few feet. "Then tell me why she has not prosecuted a case in three months."

Miles felt a pang rise in his chest just thinking about this subject. "That… had nothing to do with me," he replied. "If it had been in my power to stop that from happening I would have prevented it." He was speaking calmly, but inside a fire raged. He didn't want to be talking to this man; he wanted to be back home and at Franziska's side, making sure that she was all right.

"Prevent what from happening?" His smirk was gone now, replaced by an angry sneer.

Now this was something he couldn't bring himself to say, not to this man. "What the hell do you care?" he finally decided on. "You've never given a damn about her. The only reason you didn't put her up for adoption the moment she was born was because you needed an heir. You raised her so that when the day came that you could no longer prosecute, you could live on vicariously through your daughter. So, why should I even bother recounting the story for you? It seems like an utter waste of breath to me."

"Well then…" Von Karma moved forward again. "I suppose our little conversation is over."

Miles started to back away, turning to look toward the staircase that led up to the exit.

"Thinking of running, Boy?"

Miles looked back at him, more nervous than he had expected to be.

"You won't get very far. There is a gentleman waiting outside that door with a 12-gage shotgun. So unless you're looking to get splattered…" Miles had backed into a wall, but von Karma continued to advance on him. "…I suggest you stay where you belong."

"Get away from me," or that's what he would have said had the bottom of von Karma's cane not jabbed him hard in the stomach, cutting off the end of the sentence. This caused Miles to gasp in pain and hunch over with both arms across his middle, barely able to breathe. This action exposed the back of his head and neck, and he was stricken from above, sending him to the floor. In desperation, Miles rolled onto his back and was somehow able to catch the bottom of the cane as it came down on him again. He gripped it with both hands and used all of his upper body strength to wrench it from von Karma's hands, an action which sent it flying across the room.

As he struggled to get up, he noticed that the older man did not even move to retrieve his lost weapon. Instead, he stood waiting, as if the second round was just beginning. "Nice job, Boy. I see your reflexes have quickened a bit in the past few years."

"Or maybe you've just slowed down," Miles retorted as he finally got back up, preparing to go on the defensive again.

Von Karma gave his dark laugh, his smirk fixed once again on his pale, flame-lit visage. "We'll see about that."

By the time Miles saw it coming, it was too late. Von Karma's fingers closed around his throat and he was slammed back against the wall. Miles brought his hands up quickly to try and push him away, but somehow he couldn't manage it. He needed air and he couldn't remove the pressure on his windpipe. He tried aiming a kick at the man's knee to try and knock him off balance, but instead that knee was driven into his stomach. As Miles choked and tried to gasp for air, von Karma lifted him up—with only one arm—and flung him over his shoulder, sending the young man to the floor about five feet away and watching him roll.

Miles gasped and coughed, trying to get his breath and recover from the impact at the same time. This couldn't be done quickly enough and von Karma did not hesitate. He strode over and brought his heel down on Miles' chest, a sickening 'crack' reaching his ears. The young prosecutor retches and blood shot from his mouth, blood which he then choked on as he continued to struggle for air.

"Is that the best you can do, Miles Edgeworth?!" His victory was plain to see, and his voice boomed triumphantly in the darkness. He began to walk toward the place where Miles had originally been bound and pulled one of the chains from the floor.

An involuntary moan of pain sounded in his throat as he felt more warm, coppery-tasting liquid flooding onto his tongue. He couldn't understand it; how was this old man so physically powerful? He hadn't even been able to put up a fight!

"Did you underestimate me somehow?" Miles cringed and gave a hiss as he felt a chain come down around his chest and tighten. "I would have thought you would know better by now, Boy."

Miles cried out as von Karma began to pull on the ends of the chain, putting immense pressure on his damaged ribs and dragging him backward across the floor. For a moment, he considered trying to resist, but that would only cause him more suffering. He was dragged all the way back to the support beam he had been tied to in the first place and Manfred pulled him up against it so that he was in a slumped position halfway between sitting and lying down, resembling a lifeless doll. The heavy chain was secured on the other side of the beam, and then von Karma came to stand over his captive once again.

"Do you see now?" He crouched down slightly and placed a hand under Miles' chin, forcing his head upward so that their eyes met. "This time, there won't be anyone around for you to hide behind. This time I will have my revenge against you. For every day I had to spend in prison, you will spend a day down here and endure the same agony you have caused me. Then, should you survive until that time is up, I will kill you with my bare hands."

The only response Miles was able to give was a choked cough, causing more blood to spill from his mouth and this time onto von Karma's sleeve. Manfred looked down for a moment, and then back up. "Now look what you've done." He removed his hand from underneath Miles' chin and swiftly slapped the young man across the face with such force that his head snapped to the side. With that, he straightened up and turned to leave the room.

"_Gute Nacht, Hund."_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You can't possibly be serious!?"

"Look…" The head of the LA branch of the FBI stood and moved around his desk to remove the barrier between himself and Agent Tilea, who looked livid. "I'm sorry, Phoenix, but you and Ares have a personal connection to this incident. It's not my call; it's just basic procedure. We can't risk-"

"Risk?!" If it hadn't been for her enormous amount of self-control, she would have hit him. "You take Ares and I off of this search and you'll be risking the failure of this mission! We are the only ones who have any idea what we're dealing with here and we run the field work!" She had stopped yelling for he was standing right in from of her, but she was speaking in a fierce undertone that might as well have been a shout.

"That's a pretty bold statement," the man replied, frowning slightly. "What makes you two think you know more than the rest of us?"

"The same reason you're trying to take us off of this case. We know those two well enough to have heard things about this man that won't be in the records."

"The reason they want you two out is because you're primary focus will be to save Miles Edgeworth's life, and while we plan to do everything in our power to get him out alive, we _will not_ pass up a chance to recapture Manfred von Karma. I'm sorry, Phoenix, but I need you and Agent Taylor to stand down."

Phoenix just glared at him for a moment, unsure if she would be able to contain her anger for much longer. "Fine," she finally responded, her voice quivering as she tried to keep it in check. "As far as anyone here is concerned, Ares and I will take no further part in this investigation."

"Phoenix!"

She turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her before he could question the way she had worded her reply. She strode through the building toward her partner's office, but he met her along the way.

"So what did Kaider want?"

"He wanted to inform me that you and I are being prevented from any further involvement in the search for von Karma and the rescue of Edgeworth." She was still speaking quietly so that no one else would listen in, but her fury was obvious.

"What?" Ares looked shocked and confused. "But… we're the ones who have the most information on-"

"I know," she cut him off. "But apparently we're too closely connected to this. He's afraid that we'll let a chance to capture von Karma slip away if it means rescuing Miles."

"Well…" Ares hesitated. "I mean… if it came down to it, he might be right."

"But you and I both know that with careful planning, we can save him and get rid of von Karma. They say that they'll try to save Miles, but the way the agency will look at it is, "It's just one life." They are more than willing to sacrifice him if it means stopping von Karma."

Ares lowered his head with a sigh. He knew it was true; though Miles' life would be spared if it was easy, whoever was put on the case would be entirely focused on preventing more damage, not fixing that which had already been done. "So… what do you suggest?"

Phoenix looked back toward the workstation behind them, making sure none of the people sitting at computers there were trying to eavesdrop. "I'm not giving up on him," she stated, her voice just above a whisper now. "After everything we all went through the last time, I'm not about to stand idly by and just hope he makes it out okay, not when we can do something about it."

Ares watched her for a moment, thinking it over. She was suggesting a rogue operation, which would cost them their jobs and get them thrown in prison if they were caught. However, a friend's life was at stake, and this woman was the only person Ares truly trusted. "They really won't be able to do much effectively without us," he said. "You're Head of Field Ops. And I'm in charge of the Tactical Division."

"Exactly!" Her voice had now become nothing more than a loud whisper. "Look, we just have to let Kaider underestimate us like he always does; we have a lot of access to information in our positions, and though he might appoint new people for this one, I don't think they'll go to all the trouble of changing every code just to keep us out. We just can't get caught accessing said information."

Ares nodded. "All we need to do is find von Karma, and then we can work on our own from there." He looked nervous and so did she, but they were both determined as they separated to go back to their individual workstations. Their careers were indeed important to them, but nothing was worth sacrificing the life of a friend.


	8. Chapter 8

Good Enough

(**IMPORTANT:** Okay, the last story I wrote had the same genre listing (romance/angst), but I'm here to warn you guys that the angst element is going to be much higher in this story. I'm also about to start taking Miles way out of character, but it's for a good reason. Just figure I would let you guys know so you're not too surprised. Anyway, I hope you still continue to enjoy this!)

Chapter 8

Phoenix's long red hair flew out behind her as she strode along the empty wing to Medical, the sound of the heels of her black boots upon the polished, off-white linoleum reverberating off the bare walls in the enclosed area. Her head was held high and her black eyes were focused on the doorway ahead; she walked with a purpose and no one was about to interrupt her.

She pushed the door open to come face-to-face with one of the doctors, who looked a bit surprised at her sudden entrance. "Ah, hello, Agent Tilea. I assume you're here to speak with Miss von Karma."

"Correct," she replied. "Is she awake?"

The man nodded. "She's just finished eating. She's looking much better now; I don't see much of a reason to keep her for more than a few days longer."

"Me either," Phoenix agreed, walking briskly past him and into the section of the ward where Franziska could be found.

Franziska looked up as she heard the curtain that separated this little area from the rest of the room drawn back, and became excited when she recognized who had entered. "Phoenix," she said, sitting up. "Is there… any news?"

"Apparently, yes," Tilea answered, taking a seat beside Franziska's bed. "However, I think we're going to need your help to get it."

The German woman stared at her in confusion. "Why would you need my help?"

Phoenix sighed heavily. It had been a month since she and Ares had been forbidden to join the search; however, they hadn't told Franziska about it for fear of her losing hope. But now it was time to reveal the truth to her, and hopefully gain a new confidante in their secret operation. "Ares and I… Well, let's just say we're being denied access to any information regarding your father or his whereabouts."

"Wh-what?" Franziska knew that—whatever this meant—it wasn't a good thing..

"Because Ares and I have a personal connection with you and Miles, the agency heads don't think it's wise to allow us to be involved at all. However, where there's a will, there's a way, and that's why I was hoping you could give us a hand."

Franziska stared at the other woman, barely able to believe what she was hearing. "You and Ares… are going rogue?"

Phoenix put a finger to her lips. "Listen, if this is handled by anyone else, there's little to no chance of Miles making it out of this alive. Ares and I both know it, and so does everyone else here. Unfortunately, no one else here cares enough about that one life to bother taking any risks to save him. That's why we're doing this; there's no other way."

Franziska lowered her gaze to her hands, which were clasped on the blanket over her lap. What those two were doing would be considered a federal offense, but…

"Just tell me what I need to do," she said, looking back up at Phoenix. "If I can help save Miles… I don't care what happens to me…"

Phoenix watched her carefully. "If you decide to help us, I can't guarantee your protection from the law as well as we could guarantee the protection of those we brought along to save you. I just want you to know that this is dangerous; there is no room for error."

Franziska lowered her head again, pausing for a long time before giving her response. "I was raised with the expectation of perfection. Thus, I've always been aware of the consequences of making a mistake." She looked back up one more time. "Just tell me what I need to do."

There was another moment of silence during which Phoenix observed Franziska very closely, and then she spoke. "First, I need to know if you're okay to walk."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miles failed to restrain a small cry as the knife penetrated his skin again, his entire body tensing as the pain surged through him. The blade was dragged excruciatingly slowly from his shoulder down his back, and he couldn't stop himself from whimpering as it traveled. His red suit jacket and lace cravat were nowhere to be found, and the black dress shirt he was wearing was currently being sliced apart along with his flesh.

Miles lay on his stomach as Manfred knelt over him, large butcher's knife in hand. He was carving what had become a rather intricate design in the younger man's back, and smirked with enjoyment at each reaction he received. It gave him a sick pleasure to see that his captive's tolerance and resistance of pain had decreased considerably since his arrival. At first, Miles had refused to give him the satisfaction of a cry or a scream, but now it seemed he couldn't manage it anymore. He was nearly broken, which made things that much easier.

As the knife neared the lower part of Miles' right side, von Karma saw his body give a particularly violent jerk. Curious, he looked more closely at the point of the blade, seeing now a vivid scar across the young man's side. He recognized it immediately, for he himself had a scar just like it on his right shoulder. "A bullet wound, hm?" he inquired, pressing the tip of his knife against it.

With a sharp intake of breath, Miles squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. That scar had stopped hurting a while ago; it wasn't even painful upon being touched, but apparently the spot was still very vulnerable when it came to sharp objects.

"Well, Boy?" von Karma prompted him. "Perhaps if you'd like to share with me the story behind this, we'll take a little break."

At first, the prospect of a reprieve sounded more than inviting. However, upon further consideration, he realized how little he really wanted to have any sort of conversation with this man. Such a story was not something one usually shared with their tormentor, and as he thought back to that event, he was shocked to find how fuzzy and unclear it seemed. Therefore, he chose his response and gave it, his voice broken, strained, and muffled, for he had his face resting in his arms.

"Go to Hell…"

A sinister laugh sounded from above him. "Very well then…"

Miles cried out as the knife penetrated the scarred area and began to dig deeper. The pain seared the entire right side of his body as if hundreds of knives had just been stabbed into him. He was certain there had to be a nerve there; it shouldn't have hurt like this. Still the wound deepened and his body writhed, tensing so that he lifted his head back and raised himself up on his elbows, as if he was preparing to try and crawl away. However, he didn't have the strength for that anymore.

Once he felt that any further damage might cause a fatal injury, von Karma wrenched the knife out and watched the blood gush freely. As he took the weapon back, Miles went almost completely limp, his breathing heavy and ragged as if he had just run a great distance.

Unfortunately, von Karma was not finished yet. He stood and walked off a short ways, picking up a cylindrical container he had brought down with him. He strode back over and tipped the canister, pouring the liquid contents over Miles. The strong smell of gasoline filled the musty air, and then he began to scream.

Miles felt as if his skin was on fire as the petroleum seeped into his open gashes. It seemed as if powerful shock waves were surging through him now and he had soon rolled over onto his back, revealing his face, which shined with sweat and tears in the firelight. His screams soon died down to groans and whimpers as he lay there staring up at the man watching him. His breathing was heavier now and forced, and his throat was painfully dry, making the task of breathing even more difficult. He couldn't hide the look of fear in his gray eyes that pleaded for this to end.

At first, the laugh was quiet and mostly in his throat, but it soon grew in volume until it became triumphant and overpowering. Von Karma threw his head back, driving his heel into Miles' chest. "Finally!" he shouted. "There is the fear I've been longing to see for so many years!" He continued to laugh as Miles struggled beneath his weight, blood now rising up into his mouth again.

Finally, von Karma stepped off, picking up the canister and still smirking. "I must commend you, Boy. You've been much braver than anyone I've ever faced, but in the end… you weren't really that hard to break." And with that, he walked away, flipping off the torches just before ascending the stairs to leave.

Miles choked on blood as a sob rattled his broken body. It was true; he had finally lost his will. He didn't care anymore and he felt he had no reason to. He was beginning to forget what the sun felt like, and for some reason the faces of those he lived for were becoming blurred and distorted in his memory. He had no idea how long he had been there. There was no way of telling time and no reason to. This torment was damaging him far beyond the physical plane; he was losing touch with his own thoughts and forgetting the world outside of this living tomb. As the recollection of the things he cherished left him, so did his desire to survive.

There was no need to chain him up or restrain him anymore, for he could hardly move at all. He could drag himself across the floor if need be, but getting up the stairs and escaping without being noticed was an impossible prospect. He had considered suicide, but there was still one thing keeping him from carrying out his ideas, and it was the same as the last time he had been staring over the edge. He could feel something pulling him back, though now he could barely remember what he had left behind him. He had lost himself, but he was still hanging on by a thread that he couldn't see.


	9. Chapter 9

Good Enough

(And another! Sorry for the wait; I've been busy lately. Enjoy!)

Chapter 9

Franziska walked with Phoenix to the door of the medical wing and then let the other woman go ahead as soon as they were out of sight of the doctors. She waited a few seconds until the redheaded agent disappeared around the corner, and then she heard her speaking through the earpiece she was wearing hidden under her hair.

"_All right," _came Phoenix's voice clearly through the device. _"Head straight down this hall and turn right. You'll find a row of cubical-like offices. Ellis is the third one down."_

"Got it," Franziska replied in an undertone, speaking into a small microphone clipped on the inside of her shirt collar. She began to move forward, keeping alert in case someone unexpected was to show up. She followed Tilea's instructions and soon came to a workstation where a man of about thirty years of age sat typing something on a black screen. He didn't seem to notice her come up behind him.

"_Okay, now just say anything," _Phoenix instructed. _"He doesn't understand German at all, so he won't have any idea. He'll get up to come find me or Ares to translate for him."_

"_Mein Herr…?"_

A bit startled, Ellis turned around with a questioning look. "Um, may I help you, Miss?"

Franziska stared at him for a moment, seeming uncertain. _"__Ich suche jemand der mizh helfen kann mein Vater zun finden. Konnen Sie mir helfen?__"_

Ellis simply stared at her, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Um… Pardon me. I… um… don't understand you."

Franziska just blinked at him, looking a bit uncomfortable and uncertain as well. She began to look around, as if searching for a way to help him understand.

"Um…" Ellis scratched his head. He then stood up. "Wait here," he said, pointing at his office chair. "I'll…" He pointed at himself. "…be right back." He pointed toward the hallway, and then toward his desk. Hoping she understood, he moved off quickly.

Franziska couldn't help but smirk as he practically dashed away. She took his seat and turned to face the computer. "It's clear," she muttered. "You're sure no one can see me?"

"_His station isn't under surveillance, and I'll let you know if anyone is coming down the hall. Now…"_

Franziska listened carefully and followed along as Phoenix talked her through the steps to navigate the system she was using in order to access the information they needed. They were both tense through the entire process, but finally Franziska found it.

"Okay, how do I get it to you?"

"_Just send it to Ares' printer. It's labeled with a 42 at the end of the name. Ellis is coming down here so do it quickly."_

"I sent it."

"_Great! Close that window and pretend you've just been sitting there the whole time. I'll be by in a second."_

Franziska did as she was instructed and turned the chair around to face the entrance, leaning back in it and proceeding to look impatient. After a few moments, Phoenix appeared following Ellis.

"She speaks German and I don't think she understands any English at all."

"Oh, yes," Phoenix said. "She's here with Ares and me." She looked over at Franziska. _"Komm mit, bite."_

Franziska stood up and followed Phoenix back down the way she had come. They proceeded all the way back to Medical, and Franziska took her original position, pretending to look tired until the doctors left them alone.

"So, what was it?" she asked, looking over at Phoenix.

Phoenix began to shake her head, but a voice came from the entrance to the little room to answer her question.

"They've apparently found your father." Ares stepped in holding a sheet of paper in-hand. He stepped over to stand beside Phoenix, showing her the information Franziska had just retrieved.

"So, we know where they are now?" She was getting excited, the prospect of rescuing Miles seeming more tangible.

"Don't get too enthused," Ares said, looking over at her. "Your father has been seen around the western part of Berlin, but no one has seen Miles. There's no guarantee that they'll be in the same place, and if they are, we don't know where Miles would be hidden."

Franziska lowered her head. "Oh…"

"We can find out though," Phoenix added, folding up the sheet of paper and slipping it in a pocket on the front of her black, sleeveless dress shirt. "That's the next thing we need to work out. We've got what we need from here, so we can head out on our own now."

Franziska glanced up at them with a questioning expression. "We're… going to Germany?"

"Well…" Ares paused. "Phoenix and I are, but it's up to you whether or not you come. Personally, I don't think it'd be the best of ideas, but because this is not an official FBI operation, we're under no authority to forbid you from going."

"We won't ask you to come," Tilea continued for him. "Knowing how much danger you could be in if you came, we can't do that. However, should you choose to come, then we will accept your company."

"I'm coming," Franziska responded immediately. "I don't care if it's dangerous; Miles didn't care that he could've been killed when coming to rescue me. I owe him the same effort."

Phoenix frowned a bit. "Throwing away regard for your own life isn't the best way to go about this," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He may have risked his life, but had he not survived as you did, that might not have settled well at all. You would have probably felt responsible, despite the fact that it would have been none of your doing. The same holds true here; should you throw your life away to save his, he won't want to go on."

There was a pause during which Franziska considered Tilea's words. "I don't plan to throw my life away," she finally said. "But… I'm not afraid of putting myself in danger for him. If there's a possibility that I can help, I want to be there."

Phoenix nodded. "Very well then. We might not be allowed to work on this case, but Ares and I still have a say in what happens to you. I'll get a statement for your release, and then we'll be on our way overseas."

"I'll work on some preparations," Ares stated. "In the meantime, we all need to be thinking of creative ways to go about this little investigation of ours." With that, he and Phoenix exited past the large blue curtain and vanished from sight.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Nick! Nick! The phone's ringing! Nick! Phone, Nick! Nick!"

"Okay I got it!"

Looking a bit frazzled, Phoenix Wright picked his cell phone up off the table and answered the call to stop the MIDI version of The Steel Samurai theme song. "This is Phoenix Wright."

"Phoenix Wright, it's Franziska."

Wright gave a surprised gasp. "M-Miss von Karma!" His tone was both shocked and relieved. "I've been hoping to hear from you and Edgeworth for weeks! Is everything all right?"

There was a brief pause before she gave her response. "Not… exactly… No one knows where Miles is… He's been missing since the last time you spoke with him."

"How'd you know about that?" Phoenix asked, a little confused.

"You told Ares about it; he told me."

"Oh… Well… Are you okay at least?" He leaned against his desk, about a million questions and worries going through his head now.

"Thank you for asking, but I'm fine. I called to make a request of you actually." She sounded very business-like, unwilling to let her own fear become evident in her voice. "Phoenix Tilea, Ares Taylor, and I are heading to Germany to search for Miles. We could use all the help we can get."

Wright blinked, trying to let what she had just said register. "You… are asking me to go to Germany with you?"

"Look…" She paused. "I can't discuss it all over the phone. I can understand if you can't, but at least come meet with Ares and Tilea; let them explain it to you." She paused again, taking a deep breath and suddenly losing her professional tone. "It's… his only hope…"

The change in her voice startled him; it was odd to hear Franziska von Karma sound so… desperate. "All right," he finally replied. "Just tell me where to meet you guys. I'll… listen to what they have to say."

"Th-thank you… Phoenix Wright…"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Manfred reached the top landing and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it even though there was no chance of his captive even coming close to escaping. There were flecks of blood on his shirt and he held something very small concealed in his right hand.

"I will dispose of that for you, Sir," said another German man standing near the door, a shotgun at his side. He held out his left hand to take the hidden object from von Karma, but the older man did not hand it over.

"It still contains traces of the toxins," von Karma informed him. "I don't trust any of you to handle it."

The other man did all he could to repress a change in expression. "Oh… Y-yes, Sir. Of course."

"We'll be needing someone to start cleaning up that place," von Karma stated casually as he walked past his 'henchman'. "The smell of blood will soon reach this ground level and I don't want any of our visitors to get wind of anything."

The gunman now allowed a look of apprehension to cross his face. "Um… Sir, you aren't suggesting that-"

Von Karma laughed. "Do you really think I would be foolish enough to have my men walking around here smelling like blood? I'm sure you know what we need."

"Oh… Yes, of course…" The man watched his superior leave the room and sighed. He meant that they should find some orphan girl to do the job, someone they could take in who wouldn't be missed and whom they could manipulate into keeping her mouth shut about things that went on around the manor. This was a search and procedure he had no desire to take part in, but he dared not fail at a task assigned by Manfred von Karma. Reluctantly he moved off to go speak with some of the others about finding this new maid.


	10. Chapter 10

Good Enough 

(Nothing really actiony or suspenseful in this chapter, but it is important. You get to see a bit more of the human side of my OCs. But don't worry, Miles is here... halfway at least. You'll see what I mean. Enjoy!)

Chapter 10

Phoenix Wright stood just in front of the door that bore the numbers he had been looking for. He was hesitant, unsure if he wanted to go in or not. However, the thought of what was at stake kept floating to the front of his mind, so in the end, he pushed the small rectangular button beside the door and heard the resounding 'ding-dong' from inside the apartment.

Immediately, he heard a loud meowing from inside that seemed to get closer to the door. He blinked, having thought that only dogs ran to the door whenever someone called. The frantic meowing continued until he heard a female voice from inside.

"Okay, okay, I heard it!" The door was pulled open and Wright was faced with the nineteen-year-old redheaded girl that shared the same first name with him. "Oh, Mr. Wright. Come on in."

She stepped back to allow him entry, but he was looking down at the black and white cat darting around his ankles. "Um… Are you sure it's okay?"

Tilea looked down and laughed. "Heh, that's Oreo. She thinks she's a dog." She bent down and picked up the creature, moving off to lead Wright inside. They walked to the living room where Ares and Franziska sat, Ares with a game controller in-hand. The television screen showed a fight from the point-of-view of someone holding a large sword, who was battling some odd-looking creature which also carried a blade. Franziska was watching this with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Elder Scrolls," Tilea said, moving to take a seat beside Ares, the small cat curling up on her lap and purring in content. "So, how many more temples do you need to visit before you can lift Seramore's curse from Alganon?"

"Five," Ares replied without taking his eyes off the screen. He was now busy trying to escape some giant troll-looking thing on horseback.

Wright watched them, frowning slightly. "Um… I don't mean to sound rude but… aren't we supposed to be talking about finding Edgeworth or something?"

"Detective Gumshoe is late," came a small voice from Wright's left, and he looked to see Franziska. She still appeared to be watching the television screen, but she didn't look enthralled as Ares did. In fact, she looked exhausted and highly depressed, though Phoenix couldn't blame her one bit. He knew that she had been doing nothing but worrying for the past several weeks.

"O-oh…" He finally responded simply. "I guess he would be some help too…"

Needless to say, Wright was feeling very awkward. This scene seemed so… wrong. None of these people were familiar to him really. Ares completely absorbed in a video game, Tilea sitting next to him watching with a cat curled up on her lap, and Franziska sitting quietly to the side looking as if she could start bawling at any moment. Some part of him understood: he knew why the prosecutor was feeling that way and he realized that—though Tilea and Ares were tough and professional on the job—they were still young adults and had to have some sort of life outside of work.

Carefully, Wright walked over and took a seat next to Franziska, whom—to his relief—seemed not to mind his presence so close to her. He tried to reframe from watching her, not wishing to make her feel insecure. "So…" He paused, trying to think of a casual topic to discuss while they waited and hoping this space of time wouldn't be too drawn out. "…Do you both… live here?"

Tilea nodded. "It's not a very big place," she said, "but there are only two of us and we really don't spend enough time here to need anything bigger."

At this point, Wright became aware that Franziska was looking over at him. He glanced at her in turn and they shared a look of curiosity.

"No, we're not," Ares said, causing the two attorneys to jump a little. They hadn't even realized he could hear them. "I know what you're thinking."

Tilea made an odd face. "What Ares would have said had he not been playing a game is that we're basically roommates. We've been close friends for years, but neither of us has ever been interested in any kind of romance."

Just then, a loud banging reached their ears. "That'll be the detective," Wright said automatically without even having to consider the noise. At the same time, the little cat's ears had perked up and she flew from her owner's lap out of the room, and as Tilea stood up to go answer the door, they heard that frantic meowing from the entrance way. Tilea gave them an odd smile as she strode from the room, returning moments later carrying Oreo and leading a rather puzzled Gumshoe.

The detective looked around for a moment, and then seemed to light up a bit at the sight of Wright and von Karma. "Hey, pal!" he greeted Phoenix. "They're trying to recruit you too, huh?"

Wright felt Franziska shift a bit on the cushions beside him, but she didn't say anything. "Well…" he said, speaking cautiously. "This is important. I mean… Edgeworth is in a lot of danger right-"

"Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe looked as if he had just been hit in the face with the large game consul that Ares was now turning off from the controller. "I didn't know this was about him! I just thought we were going to look for her crazy dad!"

"Uh, Detective…" Wright glanced over at Franziska nervously. "Could you be a bit less… you?"

"Oh, sorry, pal."

"So, now that everyone is here and Agent Taylor has returned from battle, I think we can get down to business." Tilea had taken up her original place on the couch beside Ares, who now looked much more like the man Wright was familiar with.

"I'll do whatever it takes to help Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe announced with a fierce determination. His hands were balled into fists and he appeared to be ready to charge into a fight, even though they were nowhere near their target.

"That makes four of us," Ares stated, and then Wright became aware that all eyes were on him.

"Uh, I…" He was now more uncomfortable than he had been in a very long time. "Look, I really do want to help Edgeworth! I just… It's not all that easy for me to just up and leave the country. I mean… Maya will insist on coming along, and I really don't know if leaving her here alone is the best of ideas."

"Let's get one thing straight, Mr. Wright," Ares began firmly. "We _can not _allow Ms. Fey to come as well. She is too naïve to understand what is taking place here and what kind of danger she would be in. There must be a place where she can reside if you decide to come with us."

"Uh…."

"What about the mountains?" Franziska had spoken without meaning to, and looked down at the floor when everyone's gaze fell on her. "I mean… Isn't she… from that village up there or something?"

Wright blinked. Of course! Maya and Pearls could stay in Kurain village if he were to leave, so that only left the task of convincing them not to want to tag along.

"So, are you coming, pal?" Gumshoe asked, that all-too-familiar puppy-dog look appearing on his visage as he looked at the defense lawyer. "You're friends with Mr. Edgeworth; you can't just leave him for dead!"

Wright sighed. He was nervous; the last time he had worked on something so dangerous, he had been lucky to avoid being killed. However, it had all worked out in the end obviously, for Franziska von Karma was sitting right next to him on the couch very much alive, so he supposed he owed these two agents some amount of trust. Only Franziska and Edgeworth had really gotten to know them; therefore it wasn't strange to see that Franziska didn't seem to have been uncertain about anything that had taken place here while Wright and Gumshoe found this entire scene very odd. So, if she trusted them, he felt that it must be all right to do so; she knew better than he did.

"…All right," he finally agreed. "Just… give me a bit to sort things out."

"That's great, pal!" Gumshoe jumped a little with excitement, a huge grin on his face. It looked ridiculous for a man his size, but no one found the sight unfamiliar.

"Thank you, Phoenix Wright," came Franziska's near whisper. Had she been anyone else in any other situation, she might have smiled at him, but it seemed impossible for her to look at all happy as of late.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Tilea informed them. "We can't afford to wait any longer; we've already been delayed much too long."

"H-hold on a second though." A major question had been lingering on Wright's mind for quite a while now, and he had to voice it. "How… can you be sure that…" He hesitated, knowing this was a very touchy subject. "…that we're not… already too late…" He mentally kicked himself as he saw Franziska flinch a bit out of the corner of his eye.

"He's alive," Tilea said casually, stretching a bit and coaxing the cat off of her lap so that she could stand up.

Wright just stared at her. "But… how can you be sure of that?"

Tilea stood up and began to walk across the room toward the hallway, stopping once more for only a moment when she was near the exit.

"It's a spirit medium thing." She vanished from the room without wasting another moment.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miles woke from the semi-conscious state he had come to know as sleep at the sound of the door at the top of the stairs being opened. His body began to tremble, an automatic response to the sound after the immeasurable amount of time he had spent down here. He had come to associate that sound with pain, for his near catatonic state-of-mind didn't allow for much sequential reasoning to connect the events in any logical way.

He didn't move as footsteps drew nearer to him, and nor did he react when something was set on the floor near his head. However, the next sound he heard did trigger a response.

"Eat."

Like an animal trained to follow simple commands, Miles raised his head and struggled to push himself up onto his elbows. In front of him sat a metal bowl containing an assortment of what must have been old table scraps, such as hardened bread, rotting fruits and vegetables, and pieces of uncooked meat. Despite the revolting sight, the young man gave no complaint as he began to slowly eat each individual piece of garbage one-by-one.

The man who had brought the bowl down to him stood still with his arms folded impatiently. He was tired of having to do this every other day; there was a reason he had never kept pets. Herr von Karma had ordered him to bring these bowls of shit down and to stay until their prisoner had finished eating. Then, he was to fill another bowl that always stayed in here with water and take the food dish back upstairs. He hated this job! The smell down here was awful and he had always loathed dogs.

After a few minutes, Miles moved back a bit away from the bowl, which was now empty. The man standing over him picked it up and then went to dump the large cup of water he held into another bowl nearby. Then, he strode away, heading back up the stairs and locking the door behind him.

As he left, Miles was slowly dragging himself over toward the bowl of water, his limbs barely of any use to him now. He finally reached it and lowered his head to lap at the filthy liquid with his tongue, this being the only way he could drink now. This is what months of constant physical and emotional torture had reduced him to, an old and sick dog barely clinging to a meaningless existence.

He didn't plead with his tormentor anymore; only desperate cries and pained whimpers escaped him during their time together. He only spoke as a programmed response now, just like anything else he did. Conscious thought was not something he normally experienced; he just followed simple commands and routine, whether these responses be an action or a spoken phrase. He couldn't even remember his Master's name.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"All right, everyone! Let's get going!" Phoenix Tilea was shouting over the roaring engine of the jet she had chartered to fly them all to Germany. All of their luggage had already been loaded, and now it was time to depart.

"Oh, Nick!" Maya threw her arms around her best friend and squeezed him so tightly that he cringed. "Please be careful! If you don't come back I'll… I'll…"

"Come on, Maya," Phoenix Wright said, hugging her back a little. "Don't start crying on me. I'll be fine!" He smiled at her as she let go of him and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"Y-you'd b-better be," she stated, trying to sound stern. "I-If you're not, I'll come find you, dig you up, and kill you again!"

Wright cringed again at the thought of Maya's wrath. "Th-that won't be necessary," he said quickly.

"You have to come back for Mystic Maya!" Pearl said, looking so incredibly fierce that Wright nearly backed away. "You can't leave the one you love to go on without you!"

Both Phoenix and Maya opened their mouths to say something, but they simultaneously decided against it and smiled instead. "I've gotta' go," Wright said, now hugging Pearl. "You two take care of yourselves. I'll make sure to call if I get the chance."

"Bye!" Maya and Pearl said together, waving at him as he quickly climbed aboard the jet where the others were waiting for him. The doors were closed behind him and soon the craft began to move, taking to the air after speeding a short distance along a small runway. Maya and Pearl continued to wave as it disappeared from sight, not wanting to walk away until they could no longer see it.

On the jet, Wright had taken a seat beside Gunshoe, and it didn't take him long to notice that Tilea had something black and white curled up in her lap where she sat between Ares and Franziska. "What the…?"

Tilea looked back at him questioningly. "What is it, Mr. Wright?"

"You're… bringing your cat?" As he said this, Oreo's head popped up and she looked over at him, as if knowing she was the topic of this conversation.

"Of course," Tilea replied. "Oreo is an investigator too, you know." She then looked down at the cat and started stroking its head. "Aren't you, sweetie?"

"Mew!"

"O….kay…." Wright slowly drew his attention away from this and looked at Franziska. "Are you all right?" he asked, noting how out-of-it she looked.

The German woman jumped a little at being addressed. "Oh… Yes, of course," she lied, failing miserable to retain her usual cold stare. She just couldn't stop looking depressed and troubled; even when she tried to smile, nothing really changed.

She sighed after a moment and lowered her head, knowing there was no hiding it. She felt so sick with worry that she could barely sleep at night, and when she did so, her dreams tormented her with gruesome possibilities of what could be happening to the man she loved. The terror she felt grew day by day, and now she was preparing to just waltz right back up to the man she never wanted to face again. She felt so much hate for her father now, but the remaining fear almost masked it entirely. She didn't know how she would react the moment she saw him again, and this prospect scared her even more. She was willing to fight to save Miles, but would that fire leave her upon hearing her father's voice or seeing his face? Would her sub-conscience take control of her, cause her to revert back to the way things were the last time she had seen him? Would she be able to fight against him now when she could have never done so as a child?

These questions and more occupied her thoughts for the rest of their journey, causing no words to issue from her mouth to join in the conversations buzzing around her.


	11. Chapter 11

Good Enough

(Happy holidays everybody! As a gift, I give you chatper 11! I am warning you though... it's a bit weird, especially the ending scene. But hey, it's my fic! I can do whatever the fuck I want!!!

...I really do hope you guys enjoy it though! Please review:D)

**Disclaimer: **Oops! Forgot to mention in the last chapter that I don't own the Elder Scrolls games. Those are property of a company whose name I cannot spell. But, I'm disclaiming it, so tha should be good enough! I certainly wish I owned it though... Those games are awesome...

Chapter 11

"Phoenix… This isn't necessary. What if they…?"

Tilea shook her head, silencing the female prosecutor. "Look, I'm a trained field agent, and espionage is nothing foreign to me."

Franziska just stared at her. "I really don't think you are underestimating my father. You can't even be sure that this was his purpose, or if it was really him"

"We can't be sure of anything without proof," Tilea replied, tucking her bright red hair up into the black wig she was attempting to put on properly. It looked real, but her natural hair was so long that it was going to be a chore to hide. She was beginning to think she'd have to get creative. "I told you this would be dangerous, and Ares and I will be doing the riskiest stunts considering it's our job."

Franziska sighed and sat down on the edge of the hotel bed she stood before. They had flown in a week ago and already these two were convinced they had a way to infiltrate her father's secrecy. The most ludicrous part about it was that they were going on information carried back to them by that little cat now stretched out across the pillows behind her. It had brought some type of advertisement stating that the estate they believed her father to be residing within was seeking a maid. They had all found it very odd, but Franziska hadn't considered it important.

"How do you know you'll be hired?" Franziska persisted, determined to convince her friend that this was completely irrational.

Tilea didn't look at her as she spoke, for she was facing a mirror while trying to clip an earpiece and wire in hidden places under her hair and shirt color. "Well, there is always a chance they won't, but our chances of success become zero if we don't try. I'm fairly confident I know what they're looking for; I just need to figure out how to get in-character." She didn't look thrilled about this; playing helpless and naïve was not something she enjoyed doing, for these were qualities she had little tolerance for in anyone her age.

She finally finished and straightened up to scrutinize herself in the mirror. "Well… They've never seen me, so it'll do."

Just then, the door to the room opened and Ares stepped in, stopping to stare at his partner. "Hello," he said. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I have no idea," Phoenix replied with a smirk.

"Awesome!" Ares exclaimed, punching her lightly in the arm. "Me either! Let's be friends!"

"Okay!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Riedel, answer the door!"

"Ja, Mein Herr…" 

The man referred to as Riedel moved reluctantly toward the front entranceway in response to the doorbell and his orders. He always hated having to deal with people coming to the door, especially when it was someone who wished to enter the manor. It was difficult sometimes to not make their guests aware that there was something to be hidden in this house while still managing to hide it perfectly. People often wondered why they could not go near the entrance to the basement, and he had just starting telling people that there was some contamination in the area that had not been taken care of yet. Unfortunately, people were now starting to ask why it hadn't been taken care of after so long.

He didn't bother to hide his irritated glare as he pulled the door open, and his frown deepened when he saw who had come to call.

A teenage girl with long black hair wearing an old gray sweater and faded blue jeans stood on the doorstep, looking shy and uncertain. "Um… I-is this the right place?" she asked.

The man continued to glared at her. "Does it look like we welcome street urchins here?"

"Um…" She looked like she wanted to run, but only backed away a little. "I saw that… this house was looking for a maid and… I thought maybe I could be of some use."

"That's highly unlikely," Riedel growled, ready to slam the door in her face.

"Please!" she said quickly. "Just give me a chance. I'll do whatever you ask of me, and I don't have anything else that would keep me from working. I'm not really looking for much money, and I-"

"Okay, be quiet, Girl!"

She jumped back at being snapped at. "I-I'm sorry…"

"Come inside, but… don't touch anything." He stepped away from the door to allow her to come in, and she did so cautiously. "Wait here," he ordered before leaving the room.

After he was gone, Tilea smirked. "I'm in," she whispered.

"_Don't get too excited yet. The boos man hasn't approved anything yet."_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, Ares."

Their conversation was cut short as footsteps reached her ears, and soon after, Riedel returned followed by Manfred von Karma, who looked even more irritated than his lackey. "Here she is, Sir. I told her not to touch anything."

Von Karma glared over at the young woman, observing every little detail. "Name," he barked.

"A-Aria," she replied nervously, appearing very frightened of this man.

"Surname," he demanded, obviously having expected to receive this information in her previous answer.

"I… uh… I don't know…" she stammered. "I… never knew my parents…"

"Place of residence." This wasn't the type of interview Phoenix had ever expected to be faced with, but she wasn't surprised in the least. He didn't seem the sort to want to deal with anyone her age.

"Um… W-wherever I'm allowed."

Something about von Karma's face changed, but she couldn't pinpoint it for some reason. "You have no home?"

"N-no, Sir," she replied quickly. "I've just been… a burden on society… so I was hoping to make myself useful here."

There was another moment of silence, and the next time von Karma spoke, Phoenix swore that she saw the shadow of a smirk beginning to form on his lips. "And who do you associate with?"

"No one, Sir…" She paused and lowered her head. "I… I know my resume isn't very impressive, but I can work whenever I'm needed and I don't mind any kind of mess. I'll do whatever I'm asked, and-"

"Perfect."

"Huh?" She looked up, blinking at the pleased look on the terrifying man's face.

"There is a room waiting for you here. I assume you have no reason to return to wherever it is you've been staying."

A cautious excitement flooded the girl's face. "No, Sir. I carry my belongings with me." She indicated a bag hanging from her shoulder. "So, I'm hired?"

"Indeed." He had been looking at her by turning his head at an angle, but now he turned his entire body to face her, raised to his full height to appear as intimidating as possible. "You refer to me as Master von Karma; I am the one you will be working for."

"Y-yes, Sir… Master von Karma."

"Riedel will show you to your room. You will stay there until I can make use of you."

"Yes, Master von Karma."

"_Suck-up."_

'Mental note: brutally murder Ares with rusty spoon.' Phoenix followed Riedel up to the second floor of the manor where he unlocked a guest room and shooed her in. Without saying anything, he closed the door after her and vanished.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" 

"Yep."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Miss von Karma?"

He knocked at the door again, but she didn't respond. Franziska didn't want anyone coming in to see her like this, especially not Phoenix Wright. She was lying on her stomach with her arms folded across the pillows, her face buried in them. Her body shook with sobs and her attempts to stop them were in vain.

Now becoming worried, Wright used the extra keycard Agent Taylor had given him and unlocked the hotel room door, stepping in to peer around. "Miss von Karma."

"I…didn't invite you in, Phoenix Wright," she stated, her voice muffled as she spoke into her pillows.

"I know, but…" He stopped. "Look, I just want to make sure you're okay. I mean… this is a really hard time for you and…" Again he hesitated, not sure how to put this without making her angry or uncomfortable. The words wouldn't come to him, unfortunately.

Franziska had lifted her head to look over at him, and after a moment, she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. "I don't need your pity," she muttered, trying to dry her eyes with the sleeve of her dark blue sweater.

"Not pity," Wright tried to explain. "Just because Edgeworth isn't around doesn't mean someone shouldn't be there for you."

Franziska stared at him, and Wright recoiled slightly. He had just said it, throwing caution to the winds. He braced himself for the dagger, sure that she would take this entirely the wrong way.

Silence…

Wright looked away and then looked back again to see that Franziska was sitting with her head down and her eyes closed, not glaring at him and preparing to lash out. She appeared to be in very deep thought, and he wondered nervously what this meant. She sat still for what felt like an eternity, and then slowly the tears started to slide down her cheeks again, though she did not open her eyes or make any other movement.

Making up his mind and steeling himself for a nice punch in the face, Wright moved over and carefully sat down on the bed beside her. He watched her for a moment, and seeing that she gave no protest, he gingerly brought his arm up to rest across her shoulders. To his utter shock, she wasted no time in leaning into him, laying her head on his left shoulder and reaching across to grip the fabric of his shirt on his right shoulder.

Wright became very stiff, startled at having this woman practically throw herself on him. 'This means she's accepting my friendship,' he told himself, moving his arm down so that it rested across her lower back and placed his hand on her hip. 'She really needs comfort right now… I should take this as a compliment.'

Franziska adjusted herself further so that she no longer sat on the bed but across Wright's lap. Had she opened her eyes, she would have seen his cheeks flush a vivid red, but she kept them tightly closed. Phoenix was sure that at any moment Ares or Gumshoe would barge in and get a look at this, and that was the last thing he needed to happen. He was trying to do Edgeworth a favor by helping Franziska cope with his disappearance, not betray his trust.

"M-Miss von Karma, I-" He stopped speaking immediately as he felt her give a particularly violent lurch at the sound of his voice. She stayed tense and his mouth hung open a bit as if he was preparing to continue his sentence, but then he closed it again with a release of air that wasn't quite a sigh. As he did this, her muscles relaxed once more and she snuggled closer to him.

"Das tut mir leid." 

'What?' He had almost asked the question out loud, but did not in light of her previous reaction to his voice. Had she just said something to him in German? A thought arose in the back of his mind that seemed to tug at his conscience, and when he sounded this thought out in his head, it made his chest tighten.

'Is she… trying to pretend that I'm Edgeworth?'

He stared down at the woman, almost horrified. It made perfect sense! Normally, she never wanted to be within arm's reach of him, and here she was trying to get as close as possible and crying into his shoulder. In addition, she refused to open her eyes and had no desire to hear him speak, for these broke the illusion that she was in the arms of the one she loved and longed to be with again. He hadn't realized until now just how desperate and dependant she really was.

Part of him knew this was not right, that he needed to bring her back to reality before this went too far, but her desperation was heart-wrenching and he couldn't bring himself to do it. So, he just sat there and held her, allowing her to exist in her fantasy no matter how awkward he was feeling. He wondered if there was something more he should be doing, yet dreaded what would happen if he did something that Edgeworth would do. Unsure of why he decided to do it, he began to sway slightly side-to-side, and her response was to press herself even closer to him, though he hadn't thought it possible. She muttered something else into his shirt, but once again it was in German and he couldn't understand it.

With a sudden jolt, Phoenix realized just how much he was actually enjoying this, though by no means did he want to. He knew whose arms she was pretending to be in, and he was suddenly wishing that he could be that person. He knew right then that this had to stop; he felt wrong for doing this to her, allowing her to hurt herself and betray Edgeworth's trust. Phoenix knew that if he wanted to, he could lean down just a bit and kiss her, and she would give no protest, perhaps even return the gesture. This was not healthy for her and was making him feel guiltier than he had in a long time.

Carefully, Phoenix moved back on the bed and turned so that he could lay her on her back in a comfortable position, but as he tried to sit up again, she would not release him. She wanted him to lie with her, cradle her as she cried herself to sleep. Wright sighed and grabbed one of her hands to pull it away from his sleeve. "Miss von Karma," he said, his voice firm and clear.

Her body tensed again, but she didn't let go. She hoped he wouldn't say anything else so that she wouldn't be woken.

"Miss von Karma, open your eyes."

Feeling her heart sink with sadness, she finally let her eyelids flutter open and stared up at the man above her who she was still clinging to. No matter how much she wanted to see Miles Edgeworth smiling down at her, that wouldn't change the solid fact that this man was Phoenix Wright. She drew her hands away from him and clutched the blanket beside her, averting her eyes from his face.

"I am more than willing to be here for you while Edgeworth can't," Phoenix said, his voice soft yet retaining a certain amount of sternness. "But I can't take his place."

"I'm sorry…" Her eyes were closed again and she had turned her face away from him in shame, now curling up on the bed with only the linens to cling to for comfort.

Feeling the utmost sympathy for her, Wright backed away and stood up. "Get some rest, Miss von Karma," he said gently, reluctantly turning his back and exiting the room to leave her alone again.


	12. Chapter 12

Good Enough

(Okay, this chapter is pretty long compared to my others, and there are a few more long ones on the horizon. There's some more OOC of Miles too, and that'll be going on for a while. But, hopefully you guys enjoy! Please review!)

Chapter 12

"Franziska?"

…

"Franziska, are you all right?"

Blearily the German woman opened her eyes, blinking a few times in the bright light. "What…?" came her groggy voice, confused as she tried to figure out where she was and who was calling her. She rolled over from her side to her back, suddenly realizing how sore she was.

She was lying on the floor of the hotel room, the comforter of the bed clutched in her arms. Over her stood Ares, looking quite concerned. "How'd you get down there?" he asked, offering her his hand.

"Must've fallen," she mumbled as she took his aid and he drew her easily up off the floor and onto the edge of the bed.

"You look like Hell."

"Thanks. You too."

"Just like having Tilea here." Ares laughed a bit and took a seat beside her. "Mr. Wright told me," he said, watching her carefully.

She lowered her head. "Oh…"

"Franziska…" Ares paused, his mouth still open a bit as he tried to think of what to say.

"You don't have to say it," she muttered, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes; she had been sure she was out of tears by now. "I'm going crazy… I'm… s-so desperate that I-"

"No," he cut her off. "You're not. You're suffering emotionally, but you're not crazy. In fact… I understand exactly what you're going through."

"How could you possibly understand?" she asked, the image of this warrior having any sort of weakness or attachment like this seeming rather farfetched.

"It might shock you to know this," Ares said, sitting up a little straighter and looking toward the large window in front of them. "I haven't always been strong. In fact, if it weren't for Phoenix… I'd have died more times than I remember, a few by my own hand."

"What?" Now she was attentive, certain she was imagining this. Ares… suicidal?

"Just about anything you can think of… I've been through…" He looked sideways at his friend, his inner conflict showing through on his face. "That incident… there was something personal in it for both of us, especially for me…"

Franziska continued to watch him, sure that this couldn't mean what she was now thinking.

"I probably know better than anyone what you went through… And Phoenix… she's saved my life more times than I can count." He lowered his head this time to stare at his hands, which were clasped in his lap. "She's the reason I became an agent; I wanted to be strong like she was. I wanted to put those years behind me."

After a moment of silence, Ares brought his hand up and drew back the left sleeve of his black sweatshirt, revealing a multitude of scars of all shapes and sizes running all the way up his arm. She stared in awe at the sight. He never wore short sleeves, so this was a first.

"Did… you do that?" she asked, uncertain if he'd welcome any further conversation in this area. However, he had been the one to bring it up.

"Only a couple of them," he replied. He turned his arms over so that the palm of his hand faced upward. "These smaller ones here are mine."

Franziska leaned over to get a closer look, something strange catching her eye. "What about this one?" It was a scar that started at the bottom of his palm and extended a few inches up his arm. This looked more like a suicide attempt than the others, but there was something else…

"That… That was my father's," Ares stated, his tone becoming much more subdued. "Most of them… are my father's."

Their eyes met and they gazed for long moments, now realizing how much they really shared. Slowly, Franziska moved her left hand to her right arm and drew up her sleeve as he had done, turning her palm upward. This time it was Ares who looked shocked, for on her arm was a scar almost identical to his own.

"My father's," Franziska said flatly. "I… almost died that night. I was… only ten years old."

Ares watched her, his expression thoughtful once again. "And who saved you?" he asked, almost certain he knew what her answer would be.

"…Miles." She was looking down at what had once been an open gash, bleeding profusely as a teenage Miles Edgeworth tried to stop it with a hand towel and some bandages, the only means he had found. "Miles… was there for me that night. It was the first time that I experienced anything beyond the trust between a brother and sister, though I didn't realize it at the time. He… somehow managed to stop the bleeding just in time, and he lay with me all night until the next day when calling an ambulance wouldn't have disturbed anyone's sleep." And by 'anyone', she meant her father.

Ares listened carefully to her story, trying to imagine the two of them those years ago and what things must've been like for them. Apparently, Manfred von Karma had been extremely abusive, but he hadn't realized just how bad it had really been until now. It was truly beyond him why that man hadn't been caught doing some of these things before now, especially if he caused that kind of damage. How had these children managed to hide it from the doctors and possibly the police?

Then again, he had managed to until that night when he received the scar they were discussing. "He tried to poison me first," Ares began after an amount of time neither bothered to measure. "But… I tasted it and threw the glass to the floor. Then… he came after me with a knife. Fortunately, I had managed to get Phoenix on the phone before he realized that I hadn't ingested enough of the poison to die. She heard him screaming at me and how frightened I was… and she came right over. By then, I was barely conscious, but she called an ambulance immediately and stayed with me all through it, even while I recovered." He paused to take a breath, trying to calm himself down. He leaned back against the headboard and drew his sleeve back down. "They arrested my father and he was sent to prison, and I moved in with Phoenix and her mother. We were both still in high school, but she was already training to become an agent. She knew how to fight, how to fall, how to conceal herself, how to wield any kind of gun you could think of, and she had just saved her first life. I couldn't believe how strong she was, and I wanted to be the same, perhaps to one day pay her back for everything she did for me."

Franziska remained attentive throughout his entire recollection, having never imagined that this man had once been a helpless and abused child such as herself.

Just then, something came back to her from just before they departed to head over to Germany. "She said something strange," the young woman said suddenly.

Ares' expression became curious. "What?"

"Tilea… She said something really strange the day we got Phoenix Wright and Dick Gumshoe to agree to come with us, but she didn't give anyone a chance to ask her about it."

"And what was that?" Ares had completely relaxed now, lying down on the pillows and looking as if he could doze off if given the opportunity.

"Phoenix Wright was asking her how she knew that Miles was alive, and she said…" Franziska paused, trying to make sure she remembered correctly. "…she said, 'It's a spirit medium thing,' I think…"

"Ah." Ares gave her a bit of a smile. "Well, probably not the type you're used to; I believe Maya Fey and her cousin can channel spirits as well."

Franziska nodded. In recent months she had come to accept the bizarre talent as reality, though she didn't normally believe in such things. "So… she was being serious?"

"Trust me, you'll know if she's joking," Ares said, sitting up again if not reluctantly. "She doesn't flaunt it, but yes, Phoenix can indeed communicate with the dead and even bring them back to this plane. I have to attribute some of our successful missions to that ability of hers. However, that's not all."

"It's not!?" Just the thought of talking to the dead seemed amazing and quite unbelievable to Franziska, but she wasn't about to doubt these two. They wouldn't make up things like this for drama or attention or whatever else it could get them.

"She has a mild form of telepathy," he tried to explain. "She can't actually _read _minds or _speak_ though her mind, but she can share emotions or feelings and in turn can sense them in others. I've never really understood it myself, but I know for a fact it works."

"How so?"

"I've never been able to hide anything from her," he muttered. "I know that some people can read a person's eyes, but I didn't even have to be looking at her or anywhere near her, and she just knew when I was about to lie or if I was in danger and wasn't telling her about it. Needless to say, she's really good with interrogating people; they can sometimes fool the sensory equipment, but they can't fool Phoenix. Something tells me that it's how she knows that Miles is still alive and how she is so certain that he's present at that manor that she'd put herself in such a risky situation under the pretense of just looking around. She can sense what he's feeling."

She felt overwhelmed: she had known these people as close friends for a few months now, and suddenly she had learned so much more about them in a matter of minutes. "I… had no idea…" was all she could think to say.

"Good," he smirked. "That means we're doing a decent job."

As he said this, Franziska became aware that he had jumped slightly. "What-?"

He stood up and moved over to the window to retrieve his communication radio from the ledge. "Phoenix, what is it?"

A pause, for her response was coming through on an earpiece he was wearing.

"You what? You're breaking up."

Another pause, and Ares' expression changed, excitement apparent in its pale features. He turned to Franziska. "She's found him!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Tilea followed von Karma at a short distance, not wishing to invade his personal space, or that was the excuse she would give if this were questioned. In reality, she couldn't stand the smell of his expensive cologne, even though it wasn't really that overpowering. They turned down a small hallway that she had not been allowed to go near before and descended a few steps into an open and empty area with hardwood flooring. Well, empty save for a single man sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room from a locked door with a shotgun by his side.

"Hi," said Aria timidly, cringing as she received a quick glare from von Karma.

"This is the girl who will be taking care of our 'special guest' from now on," Manfred informed the other man. "She may come and go as she pleases, but you will keep a close watch on her. I don't believe I need to tell you the reason."

The man nodded. _"Ja, Mein Herr."_

"Special guest?" Aria questioned, looking up at Master von Karma. "I get to take care of a special guest?!"

Von Karma nearly growled at her. "Be quiet and come," he ordered. "And I would advise you not to get your hopes up."

"Yes, Master von Karma." She lowered her head and obeyed, following him to the locked door. 'Blood,' she thought, her keen sense of smell detecting the aroma even before the way had been opened, and when it was, she nearly recoiled from it.

"That's why you are here," von Karma stated. "To take care of that rancid stench and keep this place from becoming a health hazard to myself and my men."

'His men?' she thought with an inner smirk as she followed him into the darkness and began to descend the stairs. 'Yes, of course, Mr. Hitler, Sir.'

They reached the bottom landing and von Karma flipped a switch on the wall to their left. Aria blinked and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to adjust them to the dim lighting more quickly. And then she began to look around. "Someone is actually staying d- Ah!"

She took a step back, preparing to run back up the stairs, but a rough hand closed around her upper arm and pulled her back, nearly causing her to lose her balance. "Where do you think you are going?!" von Karma snarled, leaning down so that his face was much closer to hers. "You work for me, and you will do as I say!"

"B-but…" she stammered, her face as pale as death. "…Th-that man… H-he's… He's-"

"MINE!" At this, Phoenix didn't even have to pretend to jump. She hadn't expected that one. "You are now responsible for bringing him food and water and keeping this area clean! You will keep him alive for as long as I desire, and you will make his presence known to NO ONE! Do you understand me, Girl!?"

She shivered with fear. "Uh… I… Y-yes… M-Master von Karma…"

"Good." He straightened up, and still keeping a firm grip on her arm, dragged her over toward the man lying motionless on the floor. "Miles Edgeworth."

The man lifted his head from his arms and looked up at his master with lifeless gray eyes. Phoenix felt her heart drop into her stomach and her ribs tighten in its absence. '…Jesus Christ, what has he done to him…?'

Von Karma turned his harsh gaze to Aria. "Get down so he can see you more clearly," he commanded, and she obeyed shakily. He then looked back down at Miles. "Miss Aria," he stated, his voice crisp and clear.

Miles' attention turned to the girl crouched in front of him. He stared blankly at her face, and Phoenix doubted there was anything else going on behind that blank stare, or rather, she knew there was nothing else going on behind that blank stare.

"Say it," von Karma ordered.

"Miss Aria."

She nearly choked on her own breath at the sound of his voice. It was weak, strained, and cracked, barely above a whisper and containing no emotion.

"Again," came that deep German voice from above them.

"Miss Aria."

There had been no difference in tone at all, like a machine. Phoenix stared at her friend in horror, knowing that letting this emotion show through would not damage her credibility at all.

"You follow her commands now as well. Do you understand me, Boy?"

"Yes, Master."

"Head down."

Miles obediently lowered his head back onto his arms and lay perfectly still and silent. Phoenix continued to stare at him, this sight sickening her more than it would have had she simply been working a normal case. This was her friend having been tortured into a severe state of catatonia.

"Get up, Girl."

She jumped at his order, and slowly pushed herself up. She turned toward him but kept her head lowered. "W-why…?" she muttered, looking as if she'd start to cry.

"That is none of your concern," he snarled. "Now get to work!" With that, he turned and strode away from her and back up the stairs to exit the room. As she watched him go, she noticed a large shape to the right of the stairwell that she couldn't make out in the lack of light. However, she assumed it was the supplies she'd need to clean up.

After he had vanished, Phoenix turned back around to look down at Miles, who hadn't moved. With a shaking hand, she reached up and pushed a small button on her earpiece, which would send an alerting 'beep' to Ares' earpiece. After a moment, she heard his voice in her ear, though it was distorted by interference.

"_Phoenix, what is it?"_

"I've found him," she said, speaking as clearly as she could, though her voice was strained in her throat.

"_You what? You're breaking up."_

"I've Found Him," she repeated, having regained control of her voice. There was a pause in which Ares must've shared the news, and then he spoke to her again.

"_How is he?"_

Phoenix looked down once more at her friend, doing all she could to keep her tone in check. "He seems to be in a severe state of catatonia. He will only move or speak when commanded to do so… and there aren't any signs of conscious thought…" Usually, this statement would be quite easy to give, but the knowledge that she was speaking about a close friend made it painful.

There was another pause. _"O-Okay… I'm… having a hard time hearing you, so… contact me when you get in a… a better area…"_

"Ten-four." Their conversation ended, and she knew that this news was not going to settle well back at the hotel. Her attention was now focused entirely on Miles, and with no access to medical equipment or any sort of medicine whatsoever, this was going to take work, and lots of it. She had to try and wake him up, at least a little. Unfortunately, that would most likely take a while.

With a sigh, she drew a small camera from an inside pocket of her shirt. She was being ordered to clean up a crime scene, which would not bode well for their case against von Karma. She snapped a few pictures of the area, the built-in flash on the camera making things much easier in the near darkness. Then, she began to look around, noticing that there were a few broken chains lying around. Carefully, she removed a few links from one of them that seemed to be coated in dried blood, and doing all she could not to disturb the state of them, placed them in another hidden pocket. She also took samples of the blood on the floor just in case other chemicals could be found in it, though the fact that most of it was dry would make some things more difficult.

After doing all she could to gather evidence, she decided it was time to clean it up. She took in a shuddering breath, and then spoke. "Miles Edgeworth."

As she expected, the man raised his head and looked up at her, eyes dead and empty.

She walked over to him and crouched down, gently placing a hand on each of his sides. He jolted a bit as she touched his bare skin, for he wore no shirt. She had found pieces of cloth scattered around the room and assumed it had just been ripped to shreds during the course of his torment. She had also given a start as she touched him, for his body was unnaturally cold.

Taking care not to hurt him, she lifted him from the ground, noting how light he was compared to the last time she had carried him. He began to tremble, expecting pain. "Stay calm," she said softly. "I'm here to help you."

He didn't respond to this in any way, but continued to shake with fear as she carried him to another part of the room where there was no blood on the floor. It was also a bit warmer, being in the near vicinity of one of the torches. She placed him gently on his back on the ground and stood again, observing that there was now fear in his eyes as he stared up at her, this being the only emotion he seemed capable of now.

Reluctantly, Phoenix tore her gaze away and left his side, moving off to start decontaminating this shit hole. She had never really been good at cleaning, something she had pointed out to Ares once when he had jokingly asked her what she _couldn't_ do. However, after probably a few hours of work, during which she sang quietly to herself as a distraction, she managed to remove all traces of blood from everything and even scrubbed out the disgusting bowl that she assumed they had him drinking from. 'Actually… I should just take that up and get a new one.' The thought of aiding these sick bastards in treating her friend like a dog made her burn with anger, but then again, he probably couldn't hold onto a cup to drink like anyone else would.

After finishing all of this, she took what she needed to upstairs and disposed of all the filth she had cleaned up. Then, she proceeded to find him something to eat, making certain that no one saw she hadn't gathered old scraps for him like it appeared they usually did. She entered the basement again with this meal and a new bowl of clean water.

When she approached him, it was to see that he had not moved at all, and when he saw her coming, the fear returned. Having a hard time dealing with this heart-wrenching sight, Phoenix sat down on the floor next to him and placed the dishes in front of her. She noted that he didn't even look at them; she assumed she'd have to command his attention to them.

However, she wasn't about to sit here and order her friend around, then watch him eat like a dog. Hoping to not startle him, she slid an arm beneath his back and carefully eased him up into a sitting position. Miles whimpered a little in pain as he was raised, but stopped when she finished adjusting him to lean against her. He still trembled, not able to understand that this gesture was friendly and that she wasn't about to hurt him.

"I'm going to help you eat," she said softly, preferring to speak to him like a child over speaking to him like an animal.

One word from that sentence registered with Miles and his gaze fell on the dishes in front of them. Doing the only thing he knew to do upon hearing that word, he made to lean forward to take the food, but stopped with a gasp as pain shot through his ribs.

"No, no, no," Phoenix said quickly, pushing him back against her arm.

"I-I'm sorry, Miss Aria," he said, looking even more frightened. He had done something wrong, which always meant punishment.

"It's okay," Tilea assured him, brushing his bangs—which were much longer than usual—away from his eyes. "Don't be afraid."

This phrase didn't seem to register with him either, but he did turn to look back at her, and she could have sworn she saw the shadow of confusion.

"Here," she said, reaching forward with her free hand and bringing a piece of bread back up in front of him. "Eat this," she instructed kindly.

Not sure what to make of this drastic change in his routine life, Miles simply stared at the piece of bread for a moment. He had heard the word 'eat', but it meant something different now. Hoping he did this right, he brought one hand up to take the bread from her. He looked over to make sure she didn't look angry, and then proceeded to eat it slowly.

"That's good," Tilea said with a smile. He just stared over at her, having no idea how to react to this treatment. She continued to hand him food and he would eat it, and when he had finished, she brought the bowl of water up to him. He made to take this from her, but she didn't let him hold its full weight, knowing that he would be lacking enough strength to hold up a large glass bowl full of liquid.

However, instead of bringing it up to his mouth, Miles bent his head to drink by lapping at its contents with his tongue. "No," Tilea said, bringing the bowl down away from him. He flinched.

"I'm sorry, Miss Aria."

"You don't have to be sorry," she said. "It's okay; you haven't done anything wrong. Look."

He watched her as she brought the other side of the bowl up to her own mouth, and—though she kept her lips pressed together—tipped the bowl toward her slightly and pretended to drink. "That's how you do it," she instructed. "Do you understand?"

He hesitated and watched her repeat the motion. "Yes, Miss Aria," he responded, and when she brought the bowl back over to him, he placed his lips on the edge of it and began to drink that way.

"Good job," Tilea praised him with another smile. "You're doing very good." In reality, speaking to him like this was driving her crazy, but it was much better than watching him crawl around on the floor and eat and drink like a dog. She just hoped that none of this would become known to von Karma; she hoped that Miles would understand the difference between interacting with her and interacting with the others.

When she felt he had had enough water—he would have kept drinking as long as she wanted him to, even if it would have made him vomit—she brought the bowl back down to the floor and readjusted him a bit so that his head lay against her shoulder. He looked up at her curiously, wondering what this new process was.

"Who am I?" she asked.

"Miss Aria," he replied without hesitation. She noted with astounding relief that he didn't look frightened at all.

With her free hand, she reached up and removed the black wig from her head, letting her bright red hair fall behind her shoulders, slightly disheveled. "And now?"

He just stared. He would have normally responded, "No, Miss Aria," but this didn't look like that woman anymore, so he didn't know how to say that he didn't know who she was.

"Phoenix," she said.

"Miss Phoenix."

"No, no," she correct. "Phoenix."

He paused for a moment, and then repeated her. "Phoenix."

"Can you remember that?"

"Yes, Phoenix."

She smiled at how this sounded. She knew that he was saying this out of respect for her orders, but that's not how it sounded at all. Without the title before the name, it seemed more of an actual response to an equal, not to a command from a superior.

Phoenix took hold of one of his hands and clasped it as she began to speak. "Ares is here in Germany as well," she told him, knowing he wouldn't understand her. However, talking to him this way and letting him hear these names would eventually help jar his memory and recover mentally. "We brought Mr. Wright and Detective Gumshoe as well, and we also brought Franziska."

To her surprise, he gave a small jolt at the sound of the name. She concluded that either his set vocabulary or familiar commands included her name, and she found herself wondering what Manfred had taught him that had anything to do with his daughter, though she wasn't about to try and find out. She simply continued.

"She's been really worried about you; you've been missing for over two months now." And she continued to tell him everything that had been happening in his absence, and he appeared to be listening even though he didn't understand. However, the sound of her friendly voice seemed to sooth him and slowly his eyes fell shut, his body relaxing against her.

With a sad smile, Phoenix stood, careful not to wake him. She moved back over to his original place and laid him on his stomach, hating to have to leave him here like this. There was no way to get him out right now; some careful scheming would have to be done. Still, they had finally found him and she was now on the inside; two tremendous steps toward his rescue.

Giving him one last glance, she turned and left him, pulling her wig back on as she ascended the staircase to the ground level.


	13. Chapter 13

Good Enough 

(Sorry about the wait, guys. I was hoping that I'd get more reviews from the people who were once reading this after the holidays were over, but oh well. Might as well just keep going. Hope you like this one! If you look at it in the right way, this one ends up being kind of cute, but sad at the same time.)

Chapter 13

"Okay, according to Tilea, we don't have a lot of time." Ares was pacing back and forth in front of the other three, who were sitting on the edges of the beds in the hotel room, considering there were really no other places to sit. "Miles is in bad shape, and there's only so much she can do without attracting any suspicion. We need a plan of attack, because according to her, we're outnumbered."

Gumshoe frowned and scratched the back of his head. "Well, pal, aren't you the tactical guy?"

"Well… yeah, but…" Ares stopped pacing to face them. "Of course I'm the professional, but anyone can come up with ideas. Besides, considering we're doing this without the permission of the FBI, I don't exactly have access to the wealth of information I'm used to."

Wright appeared to be in deep thought. "But… he knows who all three of us are; it won't be easy to fool him like Tilea was able to."

Ares shook his head. "You're right, that's why we can't come up with anything that would count on him having forgotten you two." He was looking at the two men. "Especially you, Mr. Wright. Manfred von Karma is not likely to forget the face of the only defense attorney to ever defeat him. By the time he sees any of you, it should already be too late."

"Or perhaps a distraction." It was Franziska who had spoken this time, and she looked to be thinking just as hard as Wright.

The others looked at her, Ares frowning. "I hope you don't mean yourself," he said. "Allowing you to put yourself in immediate danger would--"

"You would do so for Tilea." She was gazing up at him, a fierce determination in her eyes. Both now recalled their conversation earlier that day, and Ares seemed to recoil at this.

"W-well… Of course I would, but…"

"I didn't come all the way back to Germany to just sit around in a hotel room while everyone else runs to his rescue. If there is something I can do that could ensure his safety, I will not hesitate. I've never let anyone stand in my way, not even for my own protection."

Everyone was silent, shocked by the sudden reappearance of the Franziska von Karma they had all grown used to. She still looked sad, but that fire had returned, and it was plain to see that they weren't about to convince her to stay behind.

"…Very well then…" Ares cleared his throat. "Perhaps… a distraction would be an effective approach. If you could convince your father that you came looking for Miles alone, we might have a chance to take them by surprise, or even get Miles out without notice."

"And where would we come in?" Wright asked nervously.

"I haven't gotten that far yet," Ares said, sounding stressed now, but excited. "Look, I highly doubt we'll be able to avoid a fight, and that's where you two will most definitely be able to help."

At this, Gumshoe grinned eagerly, while Wright appeared to want to run. "Come on, pal," Gumshoe said, smacking him on the shoulder. "We saw you fightin' that Sanders guy! You had him beat until he bashed you with that hammer!"

Wright grinned sheepishly. "Well, that was--"

"What?" Franziska was staring at Phoenix Wright in shock. "Y-you…"

He suddenly felt like melting into the floor, and this feeling increased as Gumshoe took it upon himself to recount the story. "You heard me right, Miss von Karma! Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright fought Serial Murderer Brad Sanders! I didn't get to see the whole thing because I was fighting some other guy, but Wright here was _vicious! _He was trying to throttle the guy with his gun and everything! It was spectacular!"

Wright's cheeks were now a vivid red despite his trying to hide his face, and it appeared as if he had stolen the color from Franziska's. "You two were…" She looked up at Ares, who was leaning against the dresser in front of them with his arms folded.

"I suppose we didn't ever find the appropriate time to bring it up," he said. "But yes, Mr. Wright and the detective both joined Tilea and I, as did Miles and a couple of other agents. Tilea sent Miles to go find you while the rest of us fought. The other agents were killed along with Sanders' cronies, and the rest of us were incapacitated. That's how it came down to a one-on-one battle, or a one-on-two as luck would have it."

Franziska turned once again toward Wright and Gumshoe, and then lowered her head. She had retained the hope that they had not known what had really happened to her, but now that she knew they had come as well, there was no chance of that. She suddenly felt exposed, her humiliation known to people she had once had respect from.

"Look…" Ares said, feeling the unsettling atmosphere in the room. "…I don't think this is a topic we should be discussing right now. Miles needs help, and Tilea can't save him alone."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miles cowered in frightened anticipation as he saw the needle in his master's hand once again. He whimpered and closed his eyes as it came toward him, and his body gave a violent jolt as he felt it pierce the side of his neck. A sharp intake of breath as the poison entered, and then he screamed as the pain climaxed. It felt as if every nerve in his body was on fire, searing him deeper then any other type of pain could.

This had become von Karma's favorite method of torture, for it always initiated the best reaction. Ironically enough, it required the least amount of effort on his part.

Phoenix put a hand to her mouth in horror, muffling a scream of her own. The only urge she had resisted upon witnessing this was to rush at von Karma and strangle him. Once again, had this been almost anyone else, she would have felt nothing at all, been able to stand idly by and watch with her usual steady expression. In fact, she had administered this torture on prime suspects during difficult interrogations on numerous occasions, but before her lay her friend, guilty of nothing and suffering the agony of nerve toxin. This chemical was specifically designed to cause pain, and it did not lack in this area at all. It was pure Hell. Ares had once described to her exactly what it felt like, for he had once been overpowered during an interrogation and made to suffer it until help arrived. Apparently there had been another incident as well, but Phoenix refused to recall it.

She wasn't sure why he had brought her down here to watch this, but she concluded that it was to frighten her, make her aware of his power. As such, she figured this would be one of those rare times when losing her composure would be the best approach to authenticity. She continued to stare in horror, working up tears as best she could, and when the needle went in again and his scream reached her, she cried out again as well.

"Stop it!" she shrieked, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Just leave him alone!"

A sudden quiet filled the room with the exception of Miles' whimpers and the sobs of both of the younger two occupying it. Slowly, von Karma stood up and turned to face the girl, who was standing with her back against the wall staring at him in utter terror.

"H-How… c-can you do this?" she choked out. "How… can you do this to another human being?"

"It's quite simple, actually." He was now advancing on her, a smirk resting comfortably on his sinister face. "You fill this needle with some of the contents of this container, find a vein, and-"

"You're sick!" He was too close now for her to move away. "W-what could he have possibly done to deserve this?" Her voice trembled as he towered over her, and a surge of adrenaline shot through her as his hand flew out and closed around her throat. She had to resist the powerful urge to knock his ass out.

He leaned down a bit so that she could see his face clearly illuminated by the flames nearby. "Are you questioning me?" His voice was pure venom, and had Phoenix really been who she was pretending to be, she would have crumpled before him.

She gave no response, partly due to the fact that she couldn't breathe. With great force, he thrust her away from him to the cold floor and she began to cough as she rolled onto her back to stare up at him.

"Speak another word, and you will join him!" He let his threat explain itself as he moved off to continue his activity, his anger at her now directed at Miles, making his assault even more vicious.

Phoenix didn't move again until he had left the room, wondering all the while how such an evil man had only recently been convicted of anything. 'He couldn't have always been this sadistic,' she thought to herself. 'Prison must have driven him insane; this is one of the worst cases I've seen in a long time.' When he had finally exited, slamming the door behind him, Phoenix got up easily and moved cautiously toward the man lying just a few yards away crying and shaking.

When he heard footsteps coming near him, he panicked. "N-no more… Please, Mater!"

"Miles!"

Not having heard the voice he associated with his master, he looked up to see the redheaded girl coming to crouch beside him. He stared up at her, his face shining with sweat and tears in the firelight as he continued to sob.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked softly, doing her best to smile though the sight before her made her want to start crying as well.

Miles hesitated, continuing to gaze at her as a sob rattled him. "Y… Yes, Phoenix," he finally choked.

"Very good," she said, her smile widening. She drew a cloth from inside of her sleeve and began to mop up some of the moisture from his face, then pressed it against each of his new wounds in turn to stop them from bleeding. "It's okay," she whispered as she did this. "He's gone now. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

He looked up at her, opening his mouth as if to say something, but then closing it again, looking nervous.

"You may say whatever you like," Phoenix assured him. "I won't get angry at you for saying something."

He opened his mouth again and took in a deep shuddering breath, and when he spoke, his voice quivered with anxiety. "He'll… be back… M-Master… always comes back…"

Phoenix couldn't help but smile. This was the most he had said since she had found him, and it was definitely not a programmed response. Those words had been his own, strung together in his head of his own will, not planted there by anyone else.

He was fighting.

She leaned down to lie on her side, supporting herself on one elbow so that she was now on his level. "Soon, he won't come back," she told him. "In just a little while, you won't ever have to see him again."

He continued to look at her, his mouth opened slightly once more as he prepared to speak, and she could practically see the wheels beginning to turn. "But… he is… m-my master. I… belong t-"

"No," Tilea stopped him, having no desire to hear that phrase. "You do not belong to him, Miles. He is an evil man and he tells you only lies."

Miles lowered his head, trying to make use of thoughts he had not exercised in so long. He was being told two different things by different people, and he was expected to obey both of them. So, to whom was he to listen? That man called himself his master, but this girl was now telling him that he was not that man's property and that he was being lied to. Who then was he supposed to obey? Something told him that he should listen to Phoenix, because she never hurt him and never made him afraid, which were two things he didn't like to feel. He was sure he was supposed to obey someone, and he didn't like obeying that man at all.

Finally, he looked up again to see her watching him. He took in another shaking breath, hoping that this was what he was supposed to do to make things better. "Then… will you… be my master… Phoenix…?"

She made an odd face upon hearing this; it hadn't been quite what she was hoping for, but once again it meant he was starting to think for himself. "I won't be your master," she replied, reaching out to tuck his long bangs behind his ears to get them out of his eyes, and he lowered his head in disappointment.

"I… I don't want to… listen to that man anymore…" He said, tears springing once again to his dull eyes. "Please, Phoenix…"

"You don't need a master," she said, moving to put an arm around him in a comforting hug. "People aren't supposed to; only dogs have masters, and you're not a dog."

"I… want to listen to you, Phoenix," he said, speaking toward the floor now. "You… are different. You… don't hurt me."

"I'm only different from them," she replied. She sat up and carefully readjusted him so that he lay against her again with his head on her shoulder. "There are lots of people here who want to help you, and you'll get to see them soon. You can listen to me if you want to, but I'm not your master. Nobody is your master."

"I want to listen to you," he repeated, a bit more confidently this time. "You don't hurt me."

She smiled warmly at him, having to imagine she was speaking to a child during these interactions for her own sake. "Then will you do something for me?" she asked gently.

"Yes, Phoenix," he replied without hesitation.

"When he is around, can you pretend you think he's your master?" She was hoping he'd understand this, but the questioning look he gave her told her he didn't.

"What… does that mean…?"

"When he is around," she began, trying to find the best way to explain. "…I need you to pretend to listen to him. If he finds out you listen to me now, he'll hurt you even more, and I'll have to go away."

He gave a small gasp, this prospect obviously frightening him a great deal. "Yes… I-I will pretend, Phoenix."

"That's very good," she praised, tightening her grip on him for a moment in a small embrace. "Just one more thing." With the arm she didn't have around him she reached back and picked up her black wig from the floor, doing the best she could to slip it on one-handed. "Now, what is my name?"

He opened his mouth immediately to reply, 'Phoenix', but hesitated. Somehow, that didn't seem right at all, even though he knew it must be Phoenix. Taking a moment to decide, he finally spoke, hoping he was right. "Miss Aria."

"Great job!" she exclaimed happily, hugging him again and pulling the wig off. "Remember, he can't know you listen to me now, and when I wear this, I am Miss Aria. Do you understand?"

"Yes…" He looked and saw red hair. "…Phoenix."

"You're doing very well," she said, smoothing his bangs back again as he rested his head and closed his eyes, feeling content for the first time that he could remember. With that, she began to speak again, and this time it wasn't a question or command for him to respond to. She was telling him a story, a story about people whose names he thought he remembered her say once before. She even included him in the story too, though he couldn't understand why. All he knew was that these were his favorite times of all, when he sat with Phoenix and she spoke to him, not wanting a response at all. No one else ever just talked to him; they only talked to each other. It made him feel important somehow, like an equal, like a human being.

And, as always, his weariness eventually overcame him in this relaxed state and he fell into a true sleep, not a semi-alert doze or a state of unconsciousness brought on by pain or weakness like usual. Then came the part that Phoenix always hated, to carry him back to where von Karma had left him and to turn away. She knew that this was going to be difficult to keep up for too much longer; Manfred was sure to get wind of something one way or another. It was here that she had to rely entirely upon the others and wait for any mention of a plan to reach her. All she could do was pass on the information; it was up to them to make use of it.


	14. Chapter 14

Good Enough 

(Yay! Reviews! And as a reward, a fast update! Hope you enjoy!)

Chapter 14

Ares sat propped up against his pillows on the side of the bed closest to the center table, upon which sat a lamp that was current alight. In his hands he had a tiny camera, which was hooked to a laptop that sat on his knees. Earlier that day, he had sent their cat out to Phoenix upon her request and it had returned with a small leather pouch containing this microcam and a few other items Tilea had collected as evidence. He now found himself scrolling through pictures that might as well have been screenshots from a gruesome horror movie featuring one of the last people he'd want to see in one.

Oreo sat beside him, watching the slideshow with unblinking eyes. Her attentiveness was purely out of curiosity, to see what exactly she had brought back to her owner, and she did not share his discomfort. However, animals tend to have a keen sensitivity to those around them, especially to the humans with whom they spend the most time, so she did indeed sense the heavy tension and kept glancing up at Ares as a result of this.

After a few minutes, the sound of voices drifted into the room, and the cat's ears perked up. Ares, however, didn't even react until Franziska entered the room, soft drink in one hand and cardkey in the other. Wright and Gumshoe had insisted that she accompany them to go find a place to eat dinner, mainly because they had noticed how little Ares had wanted her to see what he had received from Tilea. Now, she placed the room key on the dresser and came to sit on the other bed and face him.

She sat silently for a while observing his mood before speaking. "I suppose it's not good news," she muttered, noting that he looked a bit troubled. She knew that he was hiding most of the physical manifestations of this emotion, but she could still see it in his dull gray eyes.

"Just… pictures of the inside of the building," he lied, not even looking over at her. Yes, there were indeed these types of pictures, but he had left out the part she would be most interested in.

To his dismay, she wasn't so easily fooled. "Then why do you refuse to let me take a look?"

Ares sighed heavily and closed his laptop, pushing it off of him onto the bed where Oreo began to sniff and rub against it as cats usually do. "Believe me when I tell you that these are not pictures you want to see."

She scowled at him. "How many times do I have t--"

"It's not just you!" He stopped, having spoken much louder than he had intended to. He was stressed and upset, and having to explain this to her was only going to make it worse. "I won't be showing these pictures to Mr. Wright or Detective Gumshoe either. If it had been my choice, I wouldn't have looked at them either, and I don't think Phoenix would have taken them. The only reason they exist is to prove our case to the FBI when this is all over. Please just trust me on this; you don't want to see him like this…"

Franziska stared at him, shocked that he had shouted at her. Still, it was plain to see how upset those images had made him, and considering the things he would normally see in his line of work, this had obviously been much more unpleasant then most sights. "Miles… was in those pictures?" she asked timidly, recalling his last few words.

Ares took in a deep breath, not looking at her as he answered. "Yeah… He is… But you would barely recognize him."

Franziska lowered her head and her body began to jerk with sobs after a moment. "Oh God…" She dreaded to imagine what he must look like if Ares seemed so upset about those pictures and refused to let anyone else see. The thought of his suffering was more than she could bear. "I just… can't help feeling like this is my fault," she whispered, covering her face with her hands.

"We've told you before," Ares said firmly. "None of this is your doing. There's only one person to blame, and that's your father."

"I just wish he was here…" She leaned sideways and lay down on the pillows.

"It's only a matter of time," Ares assured her, placing his laptop and anything else on the bed down on the floor and lying back down with a sigh. "We just have to finish planning this out and we'll have him out of there."

"I… I hope you're right. We were… just starting to get our lives straightened out… He had even… really decided to stop drinking and… things were going to be okay." Had they not been the only two present in the room with no other noise save for the quiet hum of the heater, he would have lost track of her voice as it got softer and softer. "A-and then this happens. I'm… so afraid…"

"Just don't lose hope," Ares said, reaching up to turn off the lamp between their beds, for it was nearly midnight now and they were both pretty much settled in. "We can't give up until it's all over; even if it seems hopeless, you have to search for a way out."

Franziska's only response was a sob, and in the dark he couldn't tell if she was even looking at him or not.

"It's just like Phoenix always used to tell me: There's always a light at the end of every tunnel. Just hope it's not a train."

There was a pause, and then he heard a snigger from across the space between the beds. "She's such a smartass."

"I know."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miles cried out and coughed simultaneously upon the impact of that cane against his broken ribs. Another dark bruise began to form to join the others, and more were to come. As usual, a steady stream of blood ran from his lips, its flow interrupted every time he was stricken, at which point the fluid would spray or get caught momentarily in his throat.

Von Karma was in a particularly bad mood today, and this was his favorite way of relieving anger and stress. Sure, he would eventually get to his regular means of inflicting agony on his helpless prisoner, but first he needed a release for his powerful urge to hit something. Of course most people used a punching bag, but there is no closure in that, no sick satisfaction of watching the result of actions and hearing an anguished cry. A punching bag just simply comes back, as if challenging its attacker to try again. This would only succeed in making him angrier, defeating the purpose of using one in the first place.

After a few more strikes, the cane clattered to the floor as its owner stood still for a moment to slow his heart rate, taking deep angry breaths. His victim—far from feeling relief—lay on his side, shaking at the older man's feet. His own breathing was ragged and forced, no longer an involuntary process but a laborious and painful task. "Please, M…Master…" he choked out as he exhaled, unable to hold any amount of air in his burning lungs while he spoke. "Please… N-no more…"

Pleasantly surprised, von Karma looked down on his captive with a smirk. This was the first time in a couple of weeks that the boy had actually pleaded with him at all; the lost effect had somewhat taken a bit of the enjoyment out of making him suffer. He had attributed this lack of verbal response to his nearly dead state of mind, but now—for some unknown reason—he appeared to be more awake, aware enough to string words together on his own.

"Now, Miles," Manfred said, as a parent lightly reprimanding a child. "You know that I can't stop until you've paid for what you did to me." From a pocket of his jacket he drew a small metal box, within which was a needle and a small container.

"I-I'm sorry!" the younger man sobbed, desperate to avoid what he knew was coming next. "W-whatever I did… I'm… I-I'm sorry…"

Upon hearing this, von Karma frowned. Of course! He didn't even remember what this pain was for. A bit angry with himself for not considering this, von Karma opened the box and drew out its contents, deciding that it really didn't matter in the long run. Sure, he was making Miles pay for destroying him, but overall this was for his own benefit; he could deal with the boy no longer understanding what he was being punished for.

As he filled the needle and crouched down, that desperate voice reached him again.

"No, please!" He was now covering his face so he wouldn't have to watch the poison dagger coming. "Phoenix, help me!"

Von Karma's arm froze, and so did Miles. A menacing silence settled around them as the young man waited in pure dread for the consequences of what he had just done.

"What… did you just say?" von Karma asked, his voice low and dangerous, though there was an obvious note of confusion within it. That confusion quickly turned to fury, however, when the other did not answer him. "What did you just say, Boy!?" With a thrust of his hand, the needle broke skin and a terrible scream followed it. "ANSWER ME!"

"Ph-Phoenix!" he cried out as an answer and a plea. Some of the invisible knives piercing every part of his being were beginning to recede by the time he was able to speak, but his body still writhed and he knew the needle would come again for sure if he didn't obey.

"And who is Phoenix!" The name had immediately brought the face of Phoenix Wright before his mind's eye, one of the only two defense lawyers Manfred had bothered to remember. This was the man that Miles had hidden behind during that trial, the man who had defeated him—not once—but twice and gotten him sent to prison. Then, this man had gone on tarnishing the von Karma name by sabotaging the perfect record of his daughter as well. Before that case, he had been the only lawyer to best Miles Edgeworth, and when that case arose, he had been the only one to stand up for him.

So, could this be the Phoenix the boy was calling for? Even in light of the relationship between the two of them, it was highly unlikely. He was sure Miles couldn't remember anything outside of this basement at all, and there was no possible way he could have seen that man recently. "Who is Phoenix!?" he repeated, the needle gleaming malevolently between his thumb and index finger.

"I… I don't know…" Miles had seriously considered his reply, but this was the truth. He had no idea who that girl was; she had just seemed to… appear to him. He could never even hear her come in; only when she was approaching him from a few feet away was he made aware of her presence. In reality, this was because she walked so lightly, stealth training teaching her how to make as little noise as possibly while walking without really having to think about it. However, to Miles it seemed that she just materialized out of thin air when she came to see him, like a spirit or a figment of his imagination. He really had no idea who she was.

"Don't lie to me, Boy?!" Fury surged through him and he brought the needle down again, eliciting another anguished scream.

"I'm not lying!" Miles cried when he could speak again. "M-Master, please… I… I don't know… who she is…" He expected to be stabbed again, but it didn't come.

"_She?_" Now this was something he hadn't expected. "It's a woman?" he demanded, leaning forward and taking a handful of the blood-stained, gray hair and drawing the young man's head back roughly. He placed the point of the needle against his throat, daring him to try and lie.

Miles couldn't reply, so paralyzed with pain and fear that he couldn't find his voice to answer.

With a fierce growl, Manfred released his hold and stood up, striding purposefully away. He was going to get to the bottom of this, and he was sure he knew where to look. He wrenched the door open at the top of the stairs, causing it to bang into the wall behind it when he removed his hand. This startled the man standing guard, but von Karma did not stop to explain his rage. He marched all the way up to the second floor, and without even stopping to warn her of his entry, threw open the door to his maid's room, leaving a mark on this wall as well.

The black-haired girl within jumped about three feet and only just stopped herself from falling, nearly going into cardiac arrest. "M-Master von Karma!" she exclaimed, her back now against the far wall of the room. However, he gave her no explanation either, he simply strode forward and took hold of her arm in a vice grip, dragging her back toward the door.

Phoenix found herself having to trot to keep up with the enormous steps he was taking, being quite a bit shorter than he was. Though the look of pure horror on her face was fake, she couldn't pretend she wasn't nervous. She knew that his anger was very easily provoked, but an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that this time he might not be overreacting.

He pulled her all the way back through the door to the basement and she nearly fell trying to keep his pace on the stairs. When they came within a few feet of Miles, he threw her to the floor with enough force for the impact to actually hurt. "Who is this!?" he demanded of his prisoner.

"M-Miss Aria," Miles answered immediately, his voice still tremulous and issued in between sobs.

With a growl, Manfred stepped forward and swiftly kicked the other man in the side, causing him to cry out. "WHO IS SHE!?"

"Miss Aria!" he repeated desperately, wishing this man would understand that he was telling the truth. The black-haired girl was Miss Aria, and the red-haired girl was Phoenix; he wasn't lying!

Now, Manfred turned on her, drawing her up by the collar of her sweater and slamming her against the support beam nearby. "What is your name!?" he demanded, his tone threatening pain.

"A-Aria!" she choked, making a show of trying to catch her breath.

"Don't--" His free hand came across to slap her hard on the right side of her jaw. "--LIE to me!"

"I'm not lying!" Tears were now spilling down her cheeks. "M-My name is Aria! I'm not hiding anything from you!"

"Is that so!?" He threw her to the ground once again and reached for the needle he had discarded a few minutes prior. "Because I think you are!" He brought the point downward, ready to get his answers by any means possible. Phoenix closed her eyes and braced herself for what was coming, but she was confident she would not be broken; she was a professional agent, and he was just a child with a dangerously violent temper.

"STOP!"

Phoenix opened her eyes to see the needle hovering just above her, but Manfred's attention was now on the poor man lying just a couple feet away. Miles was facing them, but his head was held low as he continued to sob.

"Ph-Phoenix… isn't a… a person…" came his strained and barely audible voice, a drastic change from the shout he had just given.

There was a pause during which Manfred attempted to register what this phrase meant. At the same time, Phoenix was very grateful that von Karma was no longer looking at her, for she hadn't been able to hide the shock at what this was all about. "Not a person?" Manfred repeated. "Explain yourself!"

"I-I can't," Miles sobbed. "I… I don't know… what she is…"

"What is this nonsense!?" von Karma snarled, standing to move back over to Miles. "I swear to you that I will cause you more pain than you have ever dreamed possible if you don't start telling me the truth!" That tiny needle continued to threaten its deadly sting, and Miles cowered before it.

"I… I am telling the truth," he pleaded. "I… d-don't know… who she is or… wh-where she comes from…"

"That's not good enough, Boy! Do you mean to tell me you are calling for help from some kind of apparition!?"

'Calling for help?' Phoenix smiled inwardly despite the situation. He might not remember her from before, but she was getting through to him. He had come to trust her, which was a sign that he was still clinging to himself in some small way.

"A-a what?" Miles stared at von Karma in confusing, not having understood the word.

"Think!" he demanded, and Phoenix smirked at the irony of this command. By this point, the German man had accepted that Miles wasn't lying; he was either oblivious or insane, and both were highly likely. "What is Phoenix and where does _she _come from?!"

Desperate for an answer to give, Miles began to look around the room. Every time he and Phoenix sat together, it was near one particular flame. So maybe… "The fire…" he replied, hoping this man would believe him.

"I beg your pardon." Manfred looked indignant, following Miles' gaze to one of the torches on the far wall.

"She… She comes from the fire," he said. "I-I think…"

Phoenix had to suppress a small laugh as von Karma turned on her again. "What sort of ridiculous stories have you been planting in his head, Girl?!"

"Me?!" She stared up at him with the fear still apparent in her black eyes. "I don't know anything about phoenixes except that it's a bird that's on fire."

"Then where did he get such an idea?! This didn't start happening until I let you in here!" He looked ready to attack her again, and she had to think up something quick.

"W-well…" She looked around as Miles had, although she actually already had a response together. "…I've just been nice to him unlike everyone else here. Maybe whatever Phoenix is… is like an imaginary friend or something, and it's a woman because the only person who doesn't hurt him is a woman."

"An imaginary… what?" Tilea savored the genuine lost look on von Karma's face; it was the funniest thing she had seen since coming here.

"An imaginary friend," she repeated. "Or like… I don't know. I've heard that when people get lonely, depressed, or scared for long enough, their mind starts… making up things for them to feel safe. I had something like that happen to me when I was little."

"And what would such a figment of his imagine be based off of?" von Karma demanded, finding the whole concept to be complete ludicrous.

"I don't know," she replied, blinking at him, no longer looking quite as afraid. "Maybe if I knew what she looked like I'd--"

"Then find out!" he ordered, and she was a bit surprised to see that he cared to know. "Let's see how you deal with him." He stood and folded his arms, moving back to watch her.

"Um… O-okay…" Phoenix moved forward and sat down next to her friend. "Hey, Miles," she said, speaking kindly and softly. "Can you tell me… what Phoenix looks like?"

Miles looked up at her curiously, and it reminded her of a small child. "But… h-haven't you… seen her, Miss Aria?" he asked, and Phoenix saw von Karma glare at her.

She shook her head. "No, I haven't," she replied. "Can you describe her? Just a little bit will do."

"U-um…"

"Listen to her, Boy," came von Karma's impatient growl. Phoenix repressed the urge to glare at him for interrupting.

Miles was now looking up at the other man as he began to speak. "Uh… Sh-she--"

"Not him," Phoenix corrected him, drawing his attention back to her. "Tell me."

"Well… She… She has really long red hair," he began, his struggle to remember showing through on his face. "And she's strong, and… her eyes… look like they have fires in them…"

"What the hell does that mean?" It was obvious that he wasn't understanding this at all. That description didn't sound anything like anyone he had ever seen before.

"Maybe it's someone he knew before," she said, looking back up at him. "It sounds to me like most of it is from the torches in here. It's really cold, after all. He probably likes the fires because they're warm." It was odd, coming up with a way that someone could simply imagine herself, and then trying to dumb it down to speech befitting of the child she was pretending to be.

Von Karma spat on the floor before him. "Pathetic!"

"Well, what do you expect?!" She decided to start acting brave, at least until she got hit or something. "You took him away from everything he knew and stuck him down here to torture him all the time! Did you think he'd stay completely sane through the whole thing?!"

In a quick motion, von Karma stooped to pick his cane up from the floor and crack it over her head, laying her out. "Watch your tone, Girl!" He turned away from them after this, looking livid. "This has been a colossal waste of my time!"

Phoenix waited until he had stormed up the stairs and slammed the door shut before she sat up to see Miles' concerned eyes upon her.

"Are you… okay, Miss Aria?" he asked.

"I'm the last thing you need to be worried about," she replied with a smile before getting to her feet and walking a few paces away. She drew off the wig and came back. Carefully, she lifted Miles from the floor and carried him over to the place they usually sat. He didn't look up at her until they sat down, at which point the flames of the torch were reflected in her black eyes, making them appear alight with flames of their own.

"I'm… sorry, Phoenix," he said, exhausted and still in immense pain. "I wasn't supposed to…"

"You did great," she smiled, tucking his bangs back behind his ears. "You made him think I'm not real."

"I-I did?" Miles looked amazed, but then that turned to apprehension. "But… you are real… aren't you?"

She couldn't help but laugh a little. "Of course I am. How else do you think you could've gotten over here?"

He didn't quite understand why she had laughed, but he did as well just in case he was supposed to. "You said… we would be leaving soon," he said after a moment. "I… really want to go. I'm tired of… being hurt…"

"I know," she replied, taking a cloth from one of her shirt pockets and wiping the moisture from his face as she always did. "It'll be soon. In fact…" She paused, placing the cloth on her lap and reaching up to press the small button on her earpiece. "…I'm going to call them right now to see when they'll be coming."

"Who?" He looked up at her with that child-like curiosity again.

"Our friends," she replied.

"_Yello?"_

"Ares, what's going on over there?"

"Well, right now we're trying to get Mr. Wright to look… not… lawyery…"

"So does that mean things are pretty much set?"

"Sort of… I need to know what's going on over there."

Phoenix looked down at Miles, who was still watching her. "Well, we had a bit of a problem just a few minutes ago, but Manfred pretty much screwed himself out of valuable information, so I think we're okay for now. Still, this needs to happen pretty quickly here."

"…We can do it tomorrow if you can get things in order there. Detective! Stop it! It's not funny!"

Tilea laughed aloud, and Miles followed suit even though he wasn't sure why. "Tell him Mr. Edgeworth said to behave himself."

"Huh?" Miles blinked. Did she just refer to him as 'Mr. Edgeworth', or was she talking about another person with the same last name?

There was a pause from the other end, and then Ares' voice reached her again. _"Great idea! It worked… sort of…"_

"What do you mean 'sort of'?" 

"Well… Franziska is in the room and… she wants to talk to Miles."

"Oh…" She paused. "Um… tell her that I was only kidding around. He's not really… communicating very well right now."

"I'm trying…"

"I know," she whispered quickly to him. "It's not your fault."

"She says she doesn't care."

"Damn it… Hang on a second." Tilea looked down at Edgeworth. "Miles, do you know who Franziska is?"

He blinked at her again. "Um… He says that… she's his daughter…"

"That's right," Phoenix replied. "But… she's not like him at all. She wants to help you, probably more than any of us."

"More than you?" This seemed an unfathomable concept for him. "But--"

"She couldn't come here; he would never allow it. But, she wants to talk to you right now."

"But… I don't know her," he said, looking nervous. "A-am I… supposed to?"

Tilea hesitated. "She knows… that you're hurt. It'll be okay."

"O-okay… I don't know how though."

"I'll show you." She turned back to speak into her microphone. "Just make sure Franziska knows not to have any expectations."

"She says she doesn't care if he talks much or not; she just wants to talk to him."

Tilea sighed. "Hang on." She removed her earpiece and placed it against Miles' ear, and then removed her microphone and held it near his mouth. She then leaned forward a bit. "Okay, put her on."

There was another pause, and then the voice of a young German woman reached his ear, sounding just as nervous as he felt.

"_Miles?"_

He looked up at Tilea questioningly.

"Just talk," she said. "She'll be able to hear you."


	15. Chapter 15

Good Enough 

(And so, it begins...)

Chapter 15

"_H-hello?"_

Franziska's breath hitched in her throat at the sound of his voice. She had tried to prepare herself for the worst, but she hadn't really been ready to hear this. He sounded tired, in pain, and weak, not at all the way she remembered him from the last time she had heard his voice. "Miles… do you know who this is?" she asked, desperate to at least hear him speak her name.

There was a pause on the other end, and then his reply came to her with an almost child-like confidence. _"Franziska."_

Franziska sat down slowly on the window ledge, feeling the tears coming. He remembered her name, but… "Do you remember me, Miles?"

Another pause.

"Um… I'm… really sorry, but… I don't remember anybody… that Phoenix tells me about…"

The tears finally sprang forth. "Miles…" She didn't know what to say to him. "I… I love you…"

"…Y-you do…?"

"I… I can't wait to see you again, even if… you don't remember." She was shaking with sobs now. "I've missed you so much… I've been so worried…"

"Um… Phoenix… told me you were…" 

It didn't sound anything like him at all. If she hadn't known the situation, she wouldn't have believed she was speaking to Miles Edgeworth, and even now she had her doubts. "I-I'm so sorry…"

"Why?" 

"I'm so sorry… for what my father has done to you…"

Another hesitation. _"Um… I think… I think it's my fault. He never says that it's your fault."_

"What?" She didn't understand this at all. What was he trying to say?

"I'm being… punished for something I did wrong. I don't remember… what it is, but I don't think you have anything to be sorry about…"

"Oh God, Miles!" She couldn't take this; just hearing this was torture in and of itself. She was now a crying mess and could barely reply to what he said next.

"Uh… I'm supposed to say goodbye now. So… goodbye…" "Bye…" Without looking up, she handed Ares the equipment and simply sat there while he walked away looking solemn "Phoenix?" "I'm here. How is she?" 

"Not… well," he replied. "Look, just get things ready on your end and we'll do this in the morning. Just contact me when it's time to make the switch."

"Will do."

"Ten-four." Ares turned off the communicator and set it on the dresser. He then went to sit next to Franziska and put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. "It's going to be okay. With the proper medical care, he should recover mentally as well as physically."

"It's unbearable," she sobbed into his shoulder. "He's… He's not…"

"I know," he said. "That's why we didn't want you to speak with him, and why I can't let you see those pictures."

She didn't say anything, just leaned against him, completely unaware that the other two men were sitting awkwardly on the other side of the room watching with uncertainly. Both looked as if they'd rather be anywhere else.

"Detective," Ares suddenly said, making the largest man jump a little.

"Uh, yeah, pal?"

"Can I trust you with something? It's to help Mr. Edgeworth," he added, knowing what effect this would have.

"Of course!" Gumshoe replied, jumping up. "I'll do whatever you need me to, Sir!"

"I need you to go out and find a pair of suit pants that look like Mr. Edgeworth's and a wig that would match his hair, only a few inches longer. Can you do this?"

Gumshoe stared at him. "Um… Why do you need that? And why not his whole suit and his regular hair?"

"Because that's not how he looks right now." He felt Franziska tense up under his arm. "I've got dress shoes; so those two things are all I'll need."

The detective and the man sitting beside him still looked utterly bewildered. "Why are you… trying to look like Mr. Edgeworth, pal?"

"So we can get him out without notice. Now hurry; we're doing this tomorrow."

"What?!" Both Wright and Gumshoe had exclaimed it at the same time.

"We can't wait around forever," Ares stated. "Things are getting worse; we need to act now before we lose our chance. Now, Detective, please."

A few minutes later, Ares had given Gumshoe some money and his pants size and sent him away.

"Are you sure… my father will fall for this?" Franziska asked quietly. "I mean… he's never seen Tilea before, so that was easy, but… Miles…"

"Miles looks a lot different than he did the last time you saw him," Ares told her. "With a bit of work, I can put on a pretty convincing act for what we need to accomplish."

"Won't that be… a bit too dangerous?" Wright asked, unsure if this was the right thing to say. "I mean… if he thinks you're Edgeworth, then…"

"If everything works out the way we've planned it," Ares explained. "…He won't be in that mind-set when he sees me. And if he is… well, I think I'm going to pretend to be unconscious anyway."

Wright frowned. "You and Agent Tilea really like taking risks, don't you?"

"It's in the job description," Ares said with a smirk. "Now, the matter of how to make you look intimidating."

Wright gave a smirk of his own. "I could always set myself on fire and run in screaming. That would scare some people."

She couldn't help it; Franziska started laughing out loud at the image this put into her mind. "I like that idea!" she said. "Let's do that!"

Ares' smile had widened a bit as well. "Though it does sound appealing and would work _in theory_, I'm afraid that would be a stunt even Tilea and I wouldn't pull. Perhaps we should just come up with something different for Mr. Wright to do."

Franziska put on the most disappointed face she could muster, reminiscent of a pouting child. "Aw, I wanted to set him on fire…"

Everyone in the room was suddenly smiling, and Wright was inwardly pleased with himself. He had hoped to brighten the mood a bit with his comment and it had obviously worked. However, somewhere in the back of his mind there was a rather uncomfortable and inappropriate thought that he refused to let come forward.

'Set me on fire? That's funny, because just a short while ago she was on the verge of wanting to sleep with me…'

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Tilea crouched low, peering silently around the corner at the half-conscious guard sitting in a chair across from the entrance to the basement. It really had to be a boring job, but that wasn't any of her concern. If anything; she was about to give him a bit of a break.

When she was sure his attention was not focused, she moved forward like a cat stalking its prey. She came up right behind him, and by the time he noticed she was there, she had already jammed the needle into his neck. His body tensed for a moment, and then went limp.

"He's out," she whispered. "Come on down."

Only seconds later, Ares leapt down from over the banister railing that ran along the top of the room, which had a high enough ceiling to allow it to open onto the second floor. He landed gracefully and came to Tilea's side.

She stared at him. "You don't look like Edgeworth," she observed, tilting her head. "Oh Ninja Master."

"Not yet," he replied indignantly. He was still wearing a black long-sleeve suit and sported his usual hair. "I want to see him up close before I try to imitate him."

Phoenix frowned. "Well, let's just get this guy settled." She indicated the guard she had just 'put to sleep', and they began trying to adjust him so he sat upright in his chair. They finally managed that, but every time Ares would try to get his head straight, it would lull to the side again.

"Come on, work with me, man!" Ares said to the unconscious guard as if he could be heard.

"Oh! Brain-thought!" Phoenix took the shotgun that lay next to the chair on the floor and placed it so that the barrel rested on the man's shoulder and his head leaned against it. "Well… it's not perfect, but I'm sure it'll work for what we need to do."

Ares looked at the sight with a smirk. "Aw, he loves it," he laughed, drawing attention to the fact that the man appeared to be cuddling his gun.

"I'm gonna' take a picture!" Phoenix drew her camera out of one of her pockets and began snapping pictures from different angles.

"Okay that's enough."

"Yeah, let's go."

They both turned away and sprinted across the room to the basement door. Phoenix unlocked it and they entered, shutting it behind them.

Ares blinked in the change of light and sniffed a couple of times. "Ugh! And you cleaned this place up?!"

"Yeah," she replied. "Bad, isn't it?" She switched on the torches when they reached the bottom landing and Ares had to adjust his vision again.

"So yeah, I'd have killed myself," he said, looking around the dismal chamber.

"Again?" Phoenix smirked, hoping to get a rise out of him.

"Oh, shut it," Ares grumbled, looking around again. "Ah, there he is."

Miles was watching them from his usual place by the support beam on the far end of the room. They couldn't see his face from this distance in the lack of light, but Phoenix could clearly envision the look of curious confusion upon it. Drawing off her black wig as she went, Phoenix made her way over to him followed at a distance by Ares. "Hey there, Miles," she greeted him as she crouched down.

"Hi, Phoenix," he returned the greeting. "Um… wh-who is that?"

"This is Ares," she introduced him, waving her hand to tell the other agent to come forward. He did so and crouched as well.

"Hey, Miles," Ares said with a smile. "Has Phoenix been taking care of you?"

Looking a little nervous, the older man nodded.

"It's time to go," Phoenix informed him, and she watched as his face lit up a bit.

"R-really?" So… she hadn't just been making up stories? He was really going to get to leave?

"Yep!" she confirmed. "We've got a plan to get you out of here."

"A… plan?" He blinked at her uncertainly. "What… do I have to do?"

"Not a thing," Ares stated. "You just have to stay _very_ quiet so no one will find you."

"Can you do that, Miles?" Phoenix asked, brushing his hair away from his bruised face.

He nodded excitedly. "Yes, Phoenix, I can do that," he stated confidently.

"Alrighty then," she said, pulling a folded black, button-up sweatshirt from the leather bag on her shoulder. "It's really cold out," she told him. "So, I'm going to put this on you, okay?"

He nodded again and lay still as she put the shirt on him and then sat him up against her arm as she buttoned it up in the front. "Okay, you're turn," she said to Ares, who stood and began to remove his own shirt.

Miles looked on in bewilderment. "What's he doing?" he asked, glancing over at Phoenix.

She smirked. "Well, Miles, it looks like Ares is giving us a striptease."

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" Ares shouted, flinging his shirt at her as she laughed hysterically. This time, Miles didn't join in her laughter, for he was just too confused to even consider it.

Beneath Ares' black suit pants he wore a pair of red ones that matched Edgeworth's almost perfectly, and he had even torn them in places according to what he could see in the pictures. His torso, which was now completely exposed, was covered in vivid scars, making him an even better candidate to imitate his friend. He even had a few long ones running down his back just as Edgeworth did. Lastly, he placed the wig of long gray hair over his own shorter gray locks, and Tilea drew out a pair of scissors so that she could attempt to style it like the older man's.

"So, how do I look?" he asked, facing Tilea.

"Hmm…" She tilted her head this way and that to get a look at him, thinking hard. Then, without warning, her fist came out and connected with the left side of his jaw, laying him out instantly. "Perfect."

"Ow, damnit!" Ares glared up at her from the floor, a bruise forming where she had hit him.

Tilea frowned. "Well, it's not quite as dark as his, but it'll do."

Miles observed this scene at a complete loss for how to react.

"Okay, he'll be down here soon," Tilea said, looking at her watch. "We need to hurry." She brought a small radio up nearer to her mouth and pushed a button to speak into it. "Detective, quickly."

"Roger that, pal!" 

Tilea stooped and—placing one arm around his upper back and the other beneath his legs—lifted Edgeworth from the floor. In his absence, Ares moved into his usual place and lay on his stomach with his head lying in his arms. Phoenix moved across the room and headed up the stairs, standing at the top and waiting.

"I'm going to give you to someone else," she said quietly to Miles, who tensed up a little at the thought of this.

"Who…?" he asked nervously.

"He's a detective," she informed him. "He's going to take you to a hiding place outside of here, but you have to remember to stay absolutely silent when he takes you."

Miles nodded. "I will…" He still looked a bit afraid, and that fear increased as footsteps reached their ears.

"It's okay," Phoenix whispered, able to tell simply by the sound of them that it was not von Karma approaching. The door opened and Gumshoe's large frame blocked most of the light that would have come flooding in.

"Quickly," Phoenix whispered urgently. "But be _very_ careful; his body has been heavily damaged and it'll be easy to make it worse."

"O-of course…" Gumshoe murmured as she passed Miles to him. His face was rather pale as he stared down at the man he was now carrying, Edgeworth's once sharp and ever-alert eyes now lifelessly gazing up at him from behind long and stringy bangs.

"I know this is hard, Detective," Tilea said, her voice more friendly now, a change from her commanding tone just a few moments ago. "He doesn't remember you right now, and he's suffered more than physical damage. However, just get him to safety without being seen, and I'm sure that with some expert medical care, he'll be back to his former self eventually. Now hurry and get out of sight; von Karma will be down here any moment now."

Gumshoe nodded, and Tilea was sure that, had he not been in the vicinity of others, he would have started crying. He had idolized Mr. Edgeworth, and to see his hero like this had to be a crushing blow from a cruel reality.

As Gumshoe turned away, Miles gave Phoenix one last apprehensive look, still not comfortable being in the grasp of this very large stranger. However, he had to close his eyes as he was taken out of the basement, for the brightness of the light outside of it was something he had not seen in months and it was blinding him. Tilea could faintly hear von Karma's voice in the distance and whispered another urgent, "Hurry!" to Gumshoe before closing the door and sprinting back down the stairs to pull her wig back on and hide Ares' suit in her bag. "Franziska, now!" she said into the communicator before hiding it as well.

When the door at the top of the stairs opened again, it was von Karma who stepped in to witness his maid scrubbing a spot on the floor and 'Miles' lying perfectly still as usual. He hadn't even noticed the guard's odd position, for he had gotten used to seeing the man in the same spot every day and had stopped bothering to glance over at him at all.

He descended with his usual proud demeanor, then stopped to stand with his arms folded and his cold gaze upon the young girl. "You might want to wait to clean up," he suggested, a smirk playing on his lips.

He watched as she tensed up and stopped scrubbing. "Um… M-Master von Karma, I don't think that—"

"Miles Edgeworth." The words issued from von Karma like a routine, and he expected the same result to occur as usual…

…but it didn't.

"Um… Sir…" she said timidly. "I think… he's unconscious…"

With an irritated growl, von Karma strode forward. "And what gives you that idea?"

"Well…" she said, now sitting instead of on her hands and knees. "…I thought he was just asleep at first, but I couldn't wake him up. I think he just… passed out."

Okay, so it had happened before, but that was normally _after_ one of their 'sessions', not right before it. The boy had no concept of time being down here, so there was no way he could have known von Karma would be coming soon and simply pretended to be unconscious for this girl to see. Unless, of course, she had told him to do so.

Von Karma took another step forward and gave Ares a kick in the side, but he received no reaction. He did it again, and still nothing, not even a flinch. He was now convinced that this could not be an act; Miles did not nearly have enough endurance to keep from reacting to a blow like that, much less two of them.

Just then, the door opened once again and Manfred spun around in surprise. "What?!" he barked to the silhouette standing in the doorway.

"I… apologize for interrupting, Sir," came a male voice with a German accent from the top of the stairs. "But… there is someone here to speak with you."

"Can't it wait!?" the first snapped, having already been irritated enough by finding his toy momentarily out of order.

"It is your daughter, Sir."

You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife.


	16. Chapter 16

Good Enough 

(Sorry this one is a bit short, but I couldn't think of a way to extend it properly. Please review and I'll update quickly!)

Chapter 16

The look of purest annoyance never left Manfred von Karma's face as he walked to a steady rhythm toward the entrance hall. He wasn't about to let it show, but the fact that Franziska had found him bothered him slightly. He had remained low, not allowed his name to appear anywhere on any records. He rarely ever left this house, having more than enough people at his disposal to handle anything he needed them to. However, she had still managed to get here somehow, and the fact that she even had the gall to come angered him deeply.

As he neared the entrance hall, voices reached his ears, and it seemed one of his men was attempting to get his visitor to leave.

"I don't care that he is your father! You are not wanted here!"

"I'm not leaving, Riedel! I did not come here on invitation, so obviously it does not matter whether I am wanted or not!"

"Do I have to personally remove you from the—"

"You lay a hand on me and I will smack you so hard your grandchildren will be born dizzy!"

"Enough!"

Both occupants of the lobby turned to look at the man who had just entered. Riedel looked hopeful, as if expecting his boss to back him up, while Franziska simply folded her arms and inclined her head a bit, her expression unreadable, but in no way frightened.

"Sir," Riedel began quickly. "I've been trying to get her to leave, but—"

"If you will excuse us." He wasn't looking at his lackey, but the man knew to whom he was speaking. With a reproachful expression, he left the room, leaving father and daughter alone.

Manfred began to walk forward, keeping his gaze fixed on the young woman before him. Her facial expression was the only thing on her he really recognized, and even that had something new within it. Her hair had grown out even more in these past two months and it was pulled back out of her face in a loose braid that could be seen over her right shoulder due to the tilt of her head. She was also dressed down considerably, wearing a simple red sweater and a pair of black dress pants, although she still wore those black, heeled boots. He also noticed that her whip was nowhere to be found. She looked older, more mature in every aspect, no longer the wild mare she had been before. She was calmer, more dignified, presenting a quiet yet powerful air of confidence and strength.

He even saw it in the way she was standing now; her demeanor had completely changed, and with a sneer he realized how like Miles Edgeworth she appeared now.

"_Guten Tag, Franziska."_

"That's close enough." He was about five feet from her now, and she didn't wish for that distance to shorten any further.

For a moment, Manfred considered continuing to advance just to assert his authority, but he saw no real reason to do so and stopped.

"I would prefer to skip the introductions if you don't mind," Franziska continued, her expression unchanging as she stood with her arms still folded across her chest. She did not hold her head high in a proud sort of way, but held it slightly lowered giving her a rather dark appearance, and her tone of voice matched this. "You know why I'm here."

He took another moment to take in her appearance, then allowed a smirk to form on his lips. "What I would like to know is how you found this place and what gave you the false notion that coming here would solve anything."

In response to this, Franziska closed her eyes and a smirk curled the corners of her mouth as a soft laugh sounded in her throat. She then opened her eyes once more, but the smirk did not vanish. "As unfortunate as it may seem," she began, "I am _your_ daughter. Did you honestly think that I wouldn't be able to find you? And as for my coming here…" She thrust her head back up for the soul purpose of getting her bangs out of her eyes, but did not lower it all the way to its original level. "…You were sadly mistaken if you thought I would sit idly by and let you do this. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a child any longer; I'm not so easily frightened."

This time, it was Manfred who began to laugh, and it was more menacing than she had ever heard it before. "Not a child." His laughter grew slightly louder as he began to walk, moving past her as she kept a close eye on him. "Really, Franziska, do you think that you can consider yourself an adult simply because you've slept with Miles Edgeworth?"

"I fail to see how that is any of your business." She had somehow managed to keep her expression from wavering, though his words had shocked her. However, she couldn't keep the bitterness from her tone.

"Oh, for God sake, Girl!" He turned on her again, no longer smirking, but sneering. "Your expression, the way you speak, the colors you wear, even the way you carry yourself: you are just like him! Like a child you clung to the first man to show you the slightest bit of attention and imitated his every move!"

"Then perhaps you have yourself to blame!" It was the first time she had raised her voice since their conversation had begun, and it was the first time that her true anger had penetrated that perfect composure. "Your so-called 'perfection' extended no further than whatever courtroom you happened to be prosecuting in at any given time! If you wanted an heir, perhaps you should have given more thought into being a father! After everything you put us through I am amazed at how stupid I was to ever trust your ways! Even after I learned that _you _were the true killer behind the DL-6 Incident, like an ignorant child I continued to follow in your tainted footsteps, and then I too lost my perfect record to that same defense attorney, twice! Miles was the one who saved me from that mistake, who saved me from becoming what you are now: a deranged, obsessive, psychotic, self-centered ego-maniac!"

A ringing silent fell between them, and Franziska realized just how tense she had become. All of the fury that had been festering silently over the past two years had just erupted in an explosion of bitter hate. Her adrenaline was still pumping; she wasn't finished yet.

Manfred von Karma stared on in pure shock as these words reached his ears. _Never_ had this girl _ever_ had the audacity to stand up to him like this. As a matter of fact, there was only one other person who ever had, and this outburst from his daughter only confirmed his suspicions and made him hate that man even more. "You think he saved you, do you?"

Somehow, Franziska knew where this was going, and she wanted to stop it before it began. "Don't even try to vilify him," she hissed. "You're a liar and we both know it!"

"He used you, Franziska!" The sound of shattering glass mingled with his shout as he flung his fist back and sent a decorative urn sailing from its shelf to the hardwood floor behind him. "He saw just how easy you are to manipulate, and he took advantage of that! You think he gave a damn what it would do to you?! He simply craved that sense of power that controlling _my _daughter would afford him! That dog lured you into an obvious trap, and you so willingly took the bait! Because of him, you are no longer a von Karma!"

She hadn't thought it was possible, but her loathing of him deepened with every word that was said. "That's funny," she snarled in a low and dangerous voice. "It sounded to me like you were just describing yourself."

Having nearly reached the point of having had it with her insolence, Manfred's left hand balled into a tight fist against his side as he glared at her.

"If what you say is true," she continued, no louder than was necessary, "then I would be dead. I would have been killed three months before you managed to break out of prison."

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, remembering that for three months before he got out, she had not prosecuted a single case. His outside sources had informed him that it was around that time she had started becoming very close to Miles Edgeworth, so he had become convinced that boy was to blame.

"A man I had prosecuted and sent to death-row escaped almost half a year ago and pursued me. He shot Miles and then attempted to kill me, and he would have succeeded had Miles not come to my aid. Even with his injury he fought, and during that fight his wound was reopened. Bleeding to death and with only one usable arm, he took that man's life for me, and to those of us who have a conscience, murdering someone—even if they deserve it—is an act that can destroy the person who commits it. So, don't even try to tell me he didn't care, because only a fool would believe that someone would put themselves in so much danger simply to have a sense of power over one person. And as for no longer being a von Karma…"

She reached up to push her bangs back again, making sure to look him directly in the eyes as she said this.

"…That was my decision."

The silence that followed felt like an eternity, though it probably only lasted a few seconds. Franziska's cold stare remained steady, but inwardly her anxiety was building. What she had just said was more than anyone would ever dare to before this man, and she could already tell from just these few minutes spent with him that his time in prison had changed him, although the thought of what he was doing to Miles pretty much gave her that impression in the first place. If she had dared to say anything to him like this as a child, he would have probably knocked her unconscious without hesitation, so she couldn't help but feel a bit of fear now that he had lost what bit of sanity he might have had.

A fury like none he had ever felt before was burning within him, yet somehow it did not erupt into a violent assault as it usually would. Somehow, he contained it, and a smirk etched its way back onto his face as he advanced slowly, only having to take a few steps to stand right in front of her. This forced her to tilt her head back to look up at him, and after searching for some time, he found the small amount of fear in her eyes.

"Come with me," he all but whispered, "and I will show you what's left of your 'knight in shining armor'."

She turned to follow him with her gaze as he moved past her and proceeded out of the entrance lobby. She waited for a moment until she was sure he was out of earshot, and then spoke in the lowest voice she could while still being heard before exiting the room after him.

"We're coming."


	17. Chapter 17

Good Enough

(Here you guys go! This one's a bit longer than the last one, and it's got some... well, I guess you could call it fluff. I must say that I am in NO WAY learning toward PxE here; it's just because of Miles' state of mind, so don't get any weird idea. glares Heh, anyway, enjoy!)

Chapter 17

"Detective, hurry!" Wright flung the hatch wide as Gumshoe huffed and puffed up the set of stairs leading inside. The door swung down behind him, shutting out the freezing winds that had momentarily invaded the jet's warmth.

Grateful to finally be warm again and safely out of sight of the enemy, the detective stopped walking and took a moment to catch his breath. He was in excellent shape, but he had just jogged half a mile in gusting winds on this cold October day carrying another man—however light he might have become—all the way.

Instinctively, the prosecutor had huddled against the larger man carrying him for warmth, and even now that it surrounded him, he was reluctant to move. His head was turned so that his face was buried in Gumshoe's coat and partially covered by the black sweater Tilea had given him. Therefore, Wright could not see it when they came in and—for a short while—Miles really didn't look all that bad.

"You okay, Detective?" Wright asked.

"Sure—" Huff. "—Pal." Huff. "I just need—" Huff. "—a breather."

Feeling that he should probably give Gumshoe more of a break, Wright stepped forward. "Hey, Edgeworth," he said with a gentle smile as he came close, preparing to take away Gumshoe's burden.

At the sound of another unfamiliar voice addressing him, Miles tensed up. Slowly, he lifted his head and turned to look away from the detective and up at the stranger who had spoken to him.

Phoenix nearly backed away, having been lured into a false sense of security. This didn't look like his old friend at all; had he not known any better, he would have thought that they had the wrong guy. Edgeworth's normally sharp and penetrating eyes were dull and lifeless, his carefully styled and maintained hair was hanging limply in strings around his head, dark patches looking eerily like bloodstains, and his young and handsome face with its pristinely defined features was battered, scarred, and deathly pale.

And as if this wasn't enough, the man that Wright had known for seventeen years—despite an extended period with no contact between them—was now looking at him with a total lack of recognition, and he even saw fear.

"Awful… isn't it, pal," Gumshoe said between heavy breaths. "He… doesn't remember… a thing…"

It had been quite a while since a single image had made him feel so incredibly depressed, but this took the cake. Wright took in a shaky breath to say something, and then hesitated. He couldn't talk to Edgeworth like this; the man had already been through Hell and now the people helping him were all upset and gloomy. It couldn't possibly be making him feel safe or welcome.

Though it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, Wright forced the muscles in his face to work against his emotions, and a kind smile appeared across his visage. "Hey there," he said, leaning down a bit at the knees so that he was closer to Edgeworth's level. "I'm Phoenix Wright. I'm going to be keeping you safe until this is all over."

Miles just stared over at him for a moment, and then looked up at the detective. Wright watched as he mouthed something and Gumshoe looked puzzled. Then, a look of sudden understanding crossed the detective's face. "O-of course, Sir," he said, his breathing having nearly regulated itself. "It's okay to talk now; there's no one around to hide from."

Miles slowly turned back to look at Wright, who was standing up straight again, though still wearing a small smile. The prosecutor's lips parted in preparation to speak, though his brain was still calculating the appropriate word. "Phoenix?"

Wright nodded. "Yes, Phoenix Wri- Ohhh…" He suddenly understood why Edgeworth looked so perplexed. "Um… See, me and your other friend have the same first name," he tried to explain. "But… you can just call me Wright." He hoped that hearing Edgeworth identify him by this name would soften the blow that had just hit him. Any reminder of the way things were supposed to be was better than nothing.

Miles lowered his head for a moment, as if digesting the information, and then raised it again. "Wright," he reiterated confidently, and then observed the other man's smile become a bit more relaxed. He too relaxed a bit, knowing this meant he had done well.

"I'll take him, Detective," Phoenix said, reaching out with both arms. "Take a break before you head back up there."

"Thanks, pal," Gumshoe replied gratefully. "Oh! Be careful," he added. "Don't shift him too much." The pass was made and Miles' weight was a bit more difficult for Wright to support than it had been for Gumshoe, though it was a strain he could handle. "I'll… um… see ya' in a bit, Mr. Edgeworth," Gumshoe said as Wright prepared to take the injured man into the cabin where a bed had been prepared for him.

Miles watched the man that had carried him all the way here, trying to put together the appropriate response. He had not been properly introduced, so he didn't really know the man's name. However, he supposed he could call him what the others were calling him. "Thank you… Detective," he finally said.

Well, it didn't sound like it usually would, but Gumshoe did all he could to envision this man sitting behind his polished work desk with a steaming cup of tea and a stack of papers in front of him, hair and suit in perfect order, stating this phrase in his usual smooth and professional tone of voice. He stood up straight and grinned proudly. "It was no trouble, Mr. Edgeworth, Sir. Detective Dick Gumshoe is always at your service." Ignoring the bewildered stare on the prosecutor's face, Gumshoe took a seat in the nearest chair to rest momentarily before making the long trip back, and Phoenix turned and carried Edgeworth into the back of the jet.

Phoenix stepped into the back room and used his shoulder to slide the door closed before crossing the room to stand over the bed that sat ready. It was the type that would be found in a hospital, but there were strips of thick elastic cloth lying across it. As carefully as possibly, Wright placed Edgeworth onto the mattress and began to adjust everything. He pulled the straps out from under him, but did not fasten them while the craft was still. He pulled the top sheet and blanket up over Miles and moved him down so that he rested comfortably on the pillows placed at the head of the bed.

All the while, Miles watched him work, finding himself observing another new procedure. He had retained enough basic knowledge to know that he lay on a bed and the sensation wasn't foreign to him, but he had no actually memory of ever lying on anything besides cold concrete.

He then noticed the unused straps hanging off the side of the mattress, and when Wright had finished and stepped back, Miles' hand found one of them. "What about these?" he asked timidly. He did not want to be tied down, but if they were there, then that surely meant they were supposed to be used.

"Huh?" Wright looked down to see Edgeworth's right hand gripping loosely the elastic material. "Oh, you don't have to have those until we leave."

Miles looked down and his expression became a little saddened and even a bit frightened. "But… I promise I won't… go anywhere," he said, his voice almost pleading. "I… I don't think I even could. Please don't tie me—"

"What?!" Phoenix hadn't even realized that Miles was afraid, and until that last part of the sentence, he honestly hadn't even considered that the straps might give him the wrong idea, so he hadn't bothered to explain them. "Oh, no," he recovered quickly and moved over to his friend's side as he saw the startled expression cross the other man's face at his sudden outburst. "That's not what they're for."

"I-it's not?" He failed to understand what straps could possibly be used for but to restrain him.

"They're not to tie you down," Phoenix said, an awkward smile visible on his face; by no means did he ever think he'd be speaking with this man in this way. "Well… They kind of are, but not because we think you'll try to get away. They're to keep you from falling off and hurting yourself."

"I don't want to be tied down," the injured man muttered, looking very frightened and upset. He still didn't understand, and Wright was feeling more and more awkward by the second.

Finally, he sighed and knelt down on the floor. He knew what he was going to have to do, but he wasn't sure if he could. He'd have to pretend he was speaking to a child. He desperately racked his brain to try and extract the automatic change in his tone and speech that occurred when he spoke to Maya's cousin Pearl. "It's okay," he said with a kind smile, hoping this would get less awkward during this time they would be spending together. "They won't be tight, I promise. You'll still be able to move around if you want; you just won't fall off."

Miles looked over at the attorney's face, which was now a few inches below his eye-level. This was the first time he ever remembered having to look _down_ to see anyone, and it made this man seem much less intimidating. "You promise?"

Wright nodded. "I promise." Then, a frown replaced his grin. Edgeworth was looking at him, but Phoenix couldn't figure out how he could possibly see anything. His gray hair practically formed a curtain in front of his face. 'Okay, that's going to bug me, and I'm sure it's bothering him. Where the hell is that first-aid kit? I'm sure there are scissors in there.'

By this point in his thoughts, he was digging through some drawers in a compartment under the bed. Sure enough, the first-aid kit was in the very last drawer on the end, causing him to look through every other one before-hand. With an irritated growl, he opened the small case and—sure enough—there was a pair of scissors inside.

"Hey, Edgeworth, can you hold still for me for just a second?"

"Wh-what are you going to do?" The question sounded apprehensive.

Wright stood and used his fingers to split Miles' bangs in the middle like they had been trained to do while toying with the scissors in his other hand. "I'm going to get some of this hair out of your face so you can see better."

"Okay, but why do I have to hold st—" He gasped suddenly and jerked as he caught sight of the sharp object pointed in his general direction. He squeezed his eyes shut and cowered, unable to pull away as Wright had a hold of the bangs on one side of his face.

"Hey, don't freak out on me," Wright said, mentally kicking himself not for the first time that day. "I'm not going to hurt you. These are for cutting paper or hair and stuff like that, not for cutting people."

No… He was not standing here explaining the function of a pair of scissors to a man the same age as himself… This could not really be happening…

Still, Edgeworth kept his eyes closed as Phoenix snipped away. He was definitely not a hair stylist, but that wasn't really the goal here. When he had finished, Miles' hair was back to something like its original length, and it even lifted just a bit now that it was no longer weighed down so much. Most importantly, however, it was out of his eyes.

"Better?" Wright asked, putting the scissors away and placing the first-aid kit back in its original hiding spot.

"Thank you, Wright," Miles muttered, unsure of how he was really supposed to respond. Thinking about it, he did feel a bit better, and he could see better as well. "It is… better…" he added, just in case his thanks were not enough.

"Good," Wright said as he swept the loose pieces of hair from Miles' pillow and blanket. "You're very welcome. Now, you should probably try and get some rest. If everything goes as planned, we should be out of here shortly."

Now that he could see what was around him more clearly, Miles had taken to looking around the room with amazement. After being stuck in a dark, musty, and empty chamber for as long as he could remember, all the different colors and shapes in this room were mesmerizing, and it was reluctantly that he closed his eyes upon the prompt from the other man. He took in a deep shuddering breath and released it in a sigh that ended up sounding more like a pained groan, for the deep inhalation had sent a jolt through his broken ribs.

Phoenix sighed as well, sitting down in a nearby chair and proceeding to watch him. It was a miserable sight: even as the prosecutor rested, the pained expression seemed to be permanently etched into his facial features. That noise that had sounded in his throat as he exhaled had only made the defense attorney pity him more, and now as he looked on he could see that Miles was gripping his blanket very tightly with both hands, fingers applying so much pressure that his knuckles were turning an even paler shade. He was in so much agony that he couldn't relax, and Wright had no idea where there was any medication he could give his friend to ease his suffering so that he could at least sleep peacefully.

"Wright?"

Phoenix jumped a little at the sound of his name; he hadn't expected Edgeworth to speak again, though he had just been musing about how the man didn't look like he'd be able to sleep. "Uh… Yeah?"

Miles hadn't reopened his eyes, but he turned his head to the side so that Phoenix was looking at his face in full. "I don't think… I can go to sleep…" His voice quivered, and Wright could tell that he was exhausted.

"Why do you think that is?" he asked, even though the question sounded so incredibly stupid. The man had just been tortured for two months straight; he couldn't sleep because it hurt to breathe!

However, the response he got surprised him. "It's… too quiet."

Wright blinked. "Too quiet?" He thought for a moment. Personally, he preferred silence while he attempted to fall asleep, but he supposed some people were different. However, something was a bit strange about this. "But… It was quiet back there… wasn't it?"

"Yes," Miles replied, finally letting his eyes open to look at the other man. "It was always… quiet, and… I couldn't sleep because I was so afraid…"

'Ohhh… I'm an idiot…' Wright thought.

"It… It hurts so much more when… when it's quiet…" On the surface the statement didn't make sense even though it was the truth to Miles, but to those who considered the chain that linked the occurrences, it made perfect sense. There is no distraction in the silence save for oneself. One can only amuse themselves for so long with visual observation, but for Miles, the only distraction for his mind was his pain and his fear. The silence forced him to stay within himself, which was a frightening place to him, and when one dwells on pain, it seems to intensify as it is pushed to the forefront of one's mind.

"Oh… Um…" Wright began to look around the room, but he found nothing of use. "What… uh… would you like to listen to?" he inquired, at a loss for what to do. 'Tilea, help me!'

"It always helps when… Phoenix talks to me," Miles replied, his voice barely audible. He wasn't sure if this man would want to sit and talk to him like Phoenix did.

"Huh?" Wright blinked. 'Oh! Duh! God I'm an idiot!' Hearing his own name had confused him momentarily, but he remembered that the one Miles knew as 'Phoenix' was Agent Tilea. "Oh… Okay… Um…"

And again he wasn't sure what to do. Talk to him? About what? What did you talk about to get a suffering man to go to sleep? 'Wait… He's like a child, right? So, what if--?"

"Would you… like to hear a story?" he asked with uncertainty, hoping for a clue.

"You can tell stories too?" Miles looked upon him with amazement.

"Uh… Sure," he replied. "I could… give it a shot." Wright picked up the chair he was sitting in and placed it beside the bed, reseating himself and leaning forward a bit. He didn't really remember any children's stories, but he assumed that Miles really wouldn't know the difference between a fairy tale and an actually recollection; they were both stories, it's just that one was imaginative and the other was real.

Miles watched him expectantly, hoping he would tell a story just as well as she did.

Wright cleared his throat. "Okay, well… About seventeen years ago, there were three young boys who all went to school together, and they were all in the same class. One was named Phoenix Wright, the second was Larry Butz, and last—but not least—was Miles Edgeworth."

Miles closed his eyes and a contented smile rested on his lips. This story was just like those that Phoenix told; he was even in it again!

"Well, one day, Phoenix started to get a cold, so he didn't go to gym class with the other kids, and Larry was out of school that day……"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"What the hell?" Manfred von Karma had just happened to glance over at the guard and became witness to a very odd sight. The man was still sitting in the chair, but he was rather lifeless. His shotgun sat between his legs and pointed upward at an angle so that the barrel rested on his right shoulder, and his head was lulled carelessly against that metal shaft.

It wasn't long before Franziska came up behind her father, and she looked on in silent amusement. 'Honestly, did they really think he wasn't going to notice? I guess it worked long enough…'

Manfred growled angrily and stepped forward, his hand coming across to slap the snoozing man in the face, hard. "Wake up!" he barked, and sure enough, the man's eyes flew open.

"Huh… Uh… What?" The guard blinked, and then started as he saw his boss leering down at him. "Oh, M-Master von Karma. I, uh…"

"Honestly, how could you possibly fall asleep like that?!" His mood was already foul, and this was just purely irritating.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Sir," the man apologized, rubbing a rather sore area on his neck. "I… I wasn't even tired. I don't know… what came over me…"

For a moment, Manfred considered a verbal assault, but then saw his daughter in his peripheral and decided he didn't really care all that much. "It would be in your best interest to _not_ let it happen again," he snarled.

"Yes, of course!"

Still scowling, Manfred turned his back and walked the rest of the distance to the closed door on the other side of the high-ceilinged room. Franziska followed, knowing exactly what would be found in this room.

The door opened into what appeared to be complete and total darkness, and Manfred stepped into it. As if mocking politeness, he stood against the door and held it open. "After you," he sneered at Franziska, who confidently stepped in ahead of him.

If she hadn't been told this was a basement area, she would not have known there were stairs in front of her, but she took care to find them in the darkness so that she did not fall. Her father followed behind her, and when he had reached the ground, he flipped on the room's light source.

Both of them scanned the room over, Franziska doing so only for the sake of acting and to see where Miles had been living for the past two months. She then looked back at her father to see that he was still scanning, expressions of confusion and then rage slowly moving across his face.

There was no one in sight.

"There doesn't seem to be anything here," Franziska said, no longer able to hide the smirk that had been fighting its way forth. "Is this some sort of strange metaphor, or did you just fuck up again?"

Without so much as a second's warning, fingers closed around her throat and she was pushed up against the support beam nearest the door. "Who are you here with?!" came her father's furious hiss just inches from her face, his voice dripping with poison. It was no longer his hand that pressed against her throat, but his forearm, and half of his weight pinned her in place. She felt as if she would be crushed beneath him.

"Um… M-Master… von Karma…?"

He bared his teeth and snarled with rage as that timid voice reached him. He stepped back from his daughter and let her slide to the floor gasping for breath as he turned abruptly toward the stairs where the voice had come from. "What the fuck do you want, Girl?!"

He froze.

"Oh, nothing really. I just wanted to know if you were afraid of guns." Instead of the shy black-haired girl wearing faded blue jeans and an old gray sweater, he found himself staring up at a young woman with flaming red hair and cold black eyes, wearing a black sleeveless V-neck top, black dress pants, and black leather boots. Her outfit was complete with a 9mm pistol held in her right hand, and it was aimed directly at him. She was smirking and began to move down the stairs, never taking her eyes or gun off of him.

When she reached the ground, Manfred could see her more clearly and recognized the facial features of his maid. However, this wasn't the only thing that caught his notice. As she faced them, her black eyes captured the light of the torch behind them a couple yards away, and a bright flame seemed to erupt within. His expression changed from total shock, to a burning fury.

"Phoenix."

"Aw, you remembered!" Normally, one would wear an excited or joyful smile while stating this phrase, but there was only that smirk. "Of course, I didn't wear this attire when I 'appeared' to Miles Edgeworth, but you get the idea. Perhaps if you had asked him what type of clothes Phoenix wore then you could've figured it out. I've got to admit though, I did get a bit nervous for a second there."

Manfred had his teeth clenched so hard that any more pressure would have cracked them. "How did you get him out so quickly?!" he demanded. "He was… right there when I—"

"Ahem."

He whipped around at the sound of someone clearing their throat on the other side of the room. As he looked on, a figure seemed to melt into existence from the shadows in the far corner, its black garb causing it to blend seamlessly with the darkness so that the old man did not see it when they entered. This figure also carried a gun, but von Karma could not see its face, for a curtain of long, gray bangs hung down in front of it.

"I just love playing dress-up," came a man's voice from behind the imitation of Miles Edgeworth's hair. Then, the hand that was not gripping the handgun came up and drew the hair back, removing the wig in one sweeping motion. This revealed a face younger than the man's whom he had been disguised as, but oddly enough it held the same type of confident composure and was framed with gray hair that reminded Manfred of the way Miles looked before this had all started. "Although, I would have preferred it if you had just pretended you'd given him a haircut, Phoenix. This thing is itchy as hell."

He cast the false hair aside and began to walk forward.


	18. Chapter 18

Good Enough 

(Here's my update, and there's a cute little scene in here... although I wrote it, so--of course--something has to go wrong. Anywho, hope you guys enjoy this one! The cliffhanger is actually in the MIDDLE of the chapter this time! lol!)

Chapter 18

"Don't look so surprised." Tilea absent-mindedly twirled her pistol around her index finger as she walked across the room toward Ares, keeping her gaze on the von Karmas. "After forty years of prosecuting kidnappers, murderers, and whatnot, you should have known that it was only a matter of time. Besides…" She stopped walking and turned to face him again, now standing only a few feet from her partner. "…you made this ridiculously easy, you know?"

Manfred was finding it impossible to compose himself. "Who are you?" he snarled, at a loss for how two teenagers had managed to pin him in a corner.

"Phoenix Tilea." She thrust her spinning gun about three feet in the air and caught it in her hand again to hold it correctly. "Head of field ops. for the Federal Borough of Investigation in Los Angelus, California."

"Ares Taylor." Tossing his own gun from hand to hand and making it spin while in the air. "On-site tactical leader for the Federal Borough of Investigation in Los Angelus, California."

"You're… You're bluffing!" Teenagers in the FBI!? It was ludicrous, unheard of!

"You just go ahead and keep on believing that," Ares said with his own smirk to match Tilea's. "It makes our job a hell of a lot easier." He let his gun come to rest and threw his head back to get his bangs out of his eyes. "Now the only question is: are you going to come quietly?"

At first, Manfred prepared for a fight, but then a look of relieved realization crossed his face, followed by a soft laugh. "You can't touch me," he said, his laughter growing louder and more confident.

"Try us," came Phoenix's low and dangerous hiss, her gun now pointed directly between his eyes.

"You are employees of the American government," he explained, that arrogant and haughty expression fixed on his twisted visage. "I am a citizen of Germany. While in my own country, _Du kannst mich nicht berühren.__"_

Franziska put a hand to her mouth, unseen by any of them for she still sat on the floor behind her father. He was right; police and government agents were not aloud to simply chase a criminal into another country and apprehend them, especially if that person is a citizen of said country. The German government would have to be the ones to capture him and opt to send him back to the American prison he had escaped from, and by that time he would probably have the mind and means to flee.

…Unless…

Tilea's laughter suddenly silenced von Karma's. "I beg your pardon, Mr. von Karma, but we are professionals." She sounded offended, but it was simply to mock his ignorance.

"It's been over two months since you escaped," Ares stated. "The FBI has had more than enough time to reach an agreement with the German government. Both the FBI and CIA were given permission to investigate under probable cause, and should our investigation yield conclusive proof, we could apprehend you."

"And you let me right in," Tilea finished, laughing as she spoke.

With his final option extinguished, von Karma lost what professional composure he might have had left. His fists were clenched and his teeth were bared, ready for a fight. "You'll never take me alive!"

"I can live with that." Ares and Phoenix cocked their guns simultaneously, but the blast that followed was not initiated by either of them.

Ares landed hard on his back about five feet from where he had just been standing as two shouts rang almost as loud as the gun blast, one his name and the other a simple sheik of terror. His hands clasped over his chest as he struggled for air, billions of white stars erupting before his eyes. Around him, an explosion of noise and confusion, more gun blasts and screams. When his vision cleared, it was to see a man fall from the stairs, shotgun landing at his side.

"Nice shot, Detective!"

A second look told him that another man was now standing on the stairs, a thick metal bar in one hand. Ares silently thanked Luck for excellent timing and the progression of science for bulletproof vests and began his struggle to rise.

He didn't get too far. There was another shout and suddenly his senses reeled, vision and hearing obscured in dark silence as his own heart beat and staggering breath came to his attention. His consciousness swayed threateningly, and then it all came back into focus along with a wave of overpowering pain sourced from the back of his head.

"Anybody moves and I'll splatter him!"

Ares became aware that he was once again lying on the floor, but this time with his head and upper back against a wall. A strong hand pushed against his bruised chest and something cold and hard was pressed painfully into his forehead. His gray eyes moved slowly upward and observed Manfred von Karma's bony hand gripping his dropped pistol.

Ares knew better than to fight in this position; one wrong move and he'd be dead before he could even consider what he had done. He simply lay still, doing his best to void his expression of any emotion, especially fear. This was where his fate was left to those around him. As a friend, Tilea would do all she could to save his life as always, but as an agent…

…She was supposed to let him die.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_Miles, hurry! We're going to be late!"_

"_Just hang on! I'm almost finished!"_

_Nine-year-old Phoenix Wright frowned and began stomping up the wooden stairs leading onto Gregory Edgeworth's back porch where his son—and Phoenix's best friend—sat at a circular glass table beneath the shade of its umbrella, scribbling hurriedly on a piece of paper. With his hands deep in the pockets of his shorts, Phoenix came to stand directly behind Miles' chair, glaring down at what was beginning to look like a novel to him. "How can you be doing homework today?" It was beautiful out! A perfect seventy-two degrees with a gentle wind, a comfortable humidity level, and no clouds to speak of, yet all Miles wanted to do was homework! It was unfathomable to his less-studious companion._

"_Because interim reports come out next week and I want to have a good grade," Miles replied without slowing in his writing. "I bet you haven't even started on it."_

_Phoenix averted his eyes and his frown deepened, signifying that this was indeed the case. "It's not due until Tuesday," he retorted. "Seriously, why would anyone want to write a paper on a Saturday just before we're supposed to go to the water park?!"_

"_I do!" Miles snapped back, this time whipping his head around for only a second to glare at his persistent friend before turning back to his work._

_Phoenix was about to keep arguing with him when he heard the screen door behind him slide open. He whirled around to see Gregory Edgeworth coming out of the house, sweat pouring from his brow. He had been mowing the front lawn when Phoenix had arrived and was finished now, coming out from a quick rest and re-hydration in the air conditioning. _

"_Hello, Mr. Edgeworth," Phoenix greeted him._

"_Hey there, Mr. Wright," Gregory smiled, extending his hand to the child._

"_I'm not a Mister," Phoenix laughed, though he accepted the handshake. _

"_You two almost ready to go?" the man inquired, his gaze falling on his silent and hunched son._

"_I am," Phoenix answered, and then he to was looking at Miles. "But Miles __**insists**__ on doing homework." He emphasized the word 'insists', proud to have been able to use it in a sentence, for it was one of their vocabulary words the previous week and he always liked to prove to Miles that he was indeed learning something despite what the other boy might think._

"_I'm almost done," Miles groaned in pure annoyance, his nose only an inch from the lined notebook paper, which he was now writing halfway down the back of. "I just have to finish the conclusion."_

_With a soft chuckle, Gregory strode over and took a seat in one of the three vacant chairs at the table, leaning back to watch his son as Phoenix continued to rant in the background._

"_You know, you're going to turn in the longest paper in fourth-grade history! Ms. Anderson will probably get so bored that she won't even want to read it all and you'll get an F for doing a hundred times as much work as you were supposed to."_

_Neither of the Edgeworths were really paying him any attention now. Miles was doing all he could to shut him out and finish while his train of thought was still on the tracks, and Gregory was now leaning forward a bit to read his son's work upside down. _

_About five more minutes passed—by which point Phoenix had taken to running around the back yard with the Edgeworths' dog—Miles sat back in his chair and stretched with a loud groan, reminiscent of the way his father would after long hours of poring over case files. His mechanical pencil lay diagonally across the paper, which bore about twenty lines of small writing, the second half of the essay, which began on the other side of the page. "All finished," he announced, closing his eyes and massaging them gently with the index and middle finger of each hand._

"_It's about time!" Phoenix called from the yard, the excited Shiba Inu following him all the way back up onto the porch, not ready for their game of Chase to end._

_Gregory stood and pushed his chair in, taking his glasses off to wipe away some of the moisture from his face with his gray T-shirt. "Are we picking up Larry?" he asked._

_Miles nodded, but Phoenix took it upon himself to say something. "Uh-huh, and he'll be wondering why we're so late. I'll have to tell him it's because Miles was too busy being a nerd!"_

_Miles simply ignored him, turning to go inside and get ready to go. When he stepped over the threshold, he turned back and put two fingers to his lips, giving a short whistle. "Pess, come on, boy!"_

_The small dog that had been jumping up at Phoenix, desperately trying to get his attention, now turned and bounded over to follow Miles inside with the hopes of some fresh water and maybe a crunch bone-shaped snack._

_Ten minutes later Miles was strapped in the passenger seat of his father's BMW and Phoenix sat in the back where—a short ride later—Larry joined him. Of course, Phoenix had to dramatically recount the events that led to their late arrival and Miles was forced to endure Larry adding the name 'Nerd' to every sentence directed at him. That was until Gregory got annoyed._

"_Boys, please behave yourselves. You're not going to argue about this the whole time we're out." Though his voice was kind, it commanded a certain amount of respect that caused the children to obey without further protest. The rest of the drive went on with discussions about school, Larry's latest detention, and bets on how many times they could ride the Kraken—the park's largest rollercoaster—without throwing up. Gregory had to discourage this conversation, however, by informing them that they were all too short to be allowed on that ride. _

_When they arrived, excitement ran rampant._

"_Let's go on the water slide first!"_

"_No way, Nick! I wanna' go in the wave pool!"_

"_Guys, they have funnel cake!"_

"_Food! Yeah!"_

"_Hang on there, boys." They all halted at the sound of Gregory's powerful voice, and when they looked back, he smiled. "We have to get wrist bands first or they won't let you on anything."_

"_Oh yeah…"_

_They all agreed on eating first, which resulted in their inability to go in the wave pool for about a half-hour or so, thus they went with Phoenix's idea to be shot out of colorful plastic tubes into 3-foot deep water, nearly colliding with one another as they refused to heed the warnings of the adults running the amusement that stated they should wait. Gregory watched from the edge of the landing pool, smiling in amusement at the children's antics. He wasn't too concerned about their apparent recklessness. They were young boys. They were made of rubber._

_Finally, a few rollercoasters later, they made it to the wave pool. To their elation, it wasn't jam-packed with people like it so often was, giving them room to swim and allowing for bigger waves._

"_I don't want you boys going too far out!" Gregory called as the three of them ran flat out into the shallow end of the pool to make their way deeper. _

"_Okay, Dad!" Miles called back, oblivious to whether the other two had even paid his father any mind at all. As soon as they got waste-deep in the warm water, a wave was generated, knocking them all backward under the water. They all came up spluttering, but laughing all the same._

"_Hey, Nick, I bet I can keep from falling over on the next wave!"_

"_Yeah right, Larry! I could totally stand up longer than you!"_

"_OBJECTION!" Miles shouter, extending his left arm and pointing a finger at them. "I'm a green belt in martial arts! If anyone can stand up against the waves, it's me!"_

_Gregory couldn't help but laugh as he beamed with pride for his son. Only nine years old and he was already pointing that finger and presenting an argument backed with strong supporting details. Now, all he had to do was prove it._

"_Okay, Edgey, you're on!" Larry made a similar gesture, extending his arm and pointing, but it didn't quite have the same effect. _

_So, the three boys made their way back into waist-deep water to await the next rush of water. Miles took a stance similar to what he had been taught during his martial arts lessons; a wide stance made for better balance and resistance, although water wasn't normally a factor in the dojo and the boy was a bit too young to really understand all the laws of physics. Still, he was better prepared than his more childish friends, who were busy trying to trip each other up before the wave even came._

_At last the next wave was generated, and sure enough Phoenix and Larry were too busy wrestling to put up a fight. Miles leaned forward and took the water full in the face, but he remained standing as it rushed past him. That was, until the other two collided with him. _

_He fell backward and hit the bottom of the pool, too startled to even get a breath of air before going under. Dazed, he was unable to fight the reverse current running along the concrete floor created as the water above rushed to one end of the pool and pushed the rest of it back the other way. He slid down the sloping ground toward deeper water, too shocked and panicked to even realize what was happening and to remember which way was up._

_Meanwhile, Phoenix and Larry both surfaced, laughing and coughing in the aftermath of the wave, and they didn't even notice that their friend did not come up with them until they heard Gregory's voice over all the rest of the laughter and joyous shouts all around them._

"_MILES!"_

_Immediately, Phoenix began to look around and realized Miles wasn't there. "Miles!" he echoed looking around some more. It wasn't long before he looked down to see his friend struggling quite a few yards away beneath the still-sloshing water. "Miles is drowning!"_

_A large splash nearby threw water into the two boys' faces as Phoenix lunged forward as well, seeing Gregory—still fully-clothed—diving beneath to try and reach his son. _

_By this time, Miles had begun to thrash more wildly and was moving along the bottom away from his father, though not intentionally. At the same time, Phoenix had gone under and was now reaching for him. Miles couldn't see him, so he had to make a grab for the first part of his friend he could reach, which happened to be his hair. Phoenix seized the silver locks tightly, not even considering what kind of pain this might cause in the moment of panic. He began to pull, trying to swim upward, and felt Miles' fingers close around his wrist._

_Just as Phoenix realized he couldn't swim while holding his friend's weight, he felt two hands close around his ankle and drag him backward. He was pulled back until his head rose above the water, and as he gasped for breath he pulled Miles upward with Larry's help._

_As soon as Miles appeared, an arm shot between him and the other two, and he was lifted into his father's arms crying and coughing up water. Gregory was speaking quickly in between heavy breaths, trying to comfort his son as he firmly patted his back with an open hand, trying to help coax the liquid out of his lungs. _

_This little fiasco had captured the attention of the rest of the area's occupants, and they were now cheering and applauding the rescue, else shouting their concerned questions. "Is he okay!?" "Do you want me to call the hospital!?" "I've always said these things are too dangerous!"_

_Phoenix and Larry just watched Gregory cradle his son, out of breath and at a loss for what to say or do. They both knew that their horseplay had been partly responsible for this, but neither had the courage to say anything out loud._

_Something glinted in the corner of Phoenix's eye and he turned to see Gregory's glasses floating to the bottom of the pool. Without even really thinking about it, he took in a deep breath and dived to retrieve them; at least he could be of some help instead of just standing there dumbfounded. He came back with the glasses and approached Gregory, who was still standing knee-deep in the water in soaking wet clothes, his wallet still miraculously in his back pocket though its contents were thoroughly soaked. _

"_H-here you go, Mr. Edgeworth…"_

_Gregory looked down at the blue-eyed boy looking up at him holding the glasses out. "Thank you… Phoenix…" he mumbled, too shaken to show his proper gratitude. He placed the glasses on his head, having nothing to dry them off with at the moment. _

_Just then, a voice penetrated the realm of existence, an unnaturally loud voice that didn't seem to belong at all._

"_Edgeworth?!"_

_The bright sunny day and the wave pool began to fade into darkness, and the voice came again, clearer and more real this time._

"Edgeworth?! Edgeworth, are you okay?!"

Miles' eyes flew open and he realized that he was coughing, hard. It hurt, and he took in a sudden deep breath, which he choked on and coughed some more.

"Holy crap! Edgeworth!" Phoenix slid an arm under the other man's back and pushed him up carefully toward a sitting position. This hurt too, but it made it easier to breath without choking. Phoenix kept him upright until his breathing regulated again, and then let him back down to a less painful position. "You okay?"

Miles lay still, mouth hanging open as he took deep, shaky breaths. "I… I was…"

"You scared me," Phoenix said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I thought you were having a seizure or a heart-attack or something at first, and then you started…"

"I… I was… drowning…"

"Huh?" Phoenix brought his forearm away from his head and blinked at the other man. "Drowning? What—"

"Th-the pool… I was… drowning and… and…" He stopped, recalling what he had just experienced. "It was like… a story."

"…I have no idea what you're talking about." Well, honesty wasn't always the best policy, but Wright had no idea what else to say here. Edgeworth wasn't making any sense at all.

"I was… little, and you… you were there… and you were little too…" He paused to make another attempt at catching his breath. "..And… there was another boy too… L-Larry…"

"Larry… Ohhhh…" Edgeworth had been dreaming about their childhood, most likely a result of his 'bedtime story'.

"We were… all outside and… in the water and… I… I was… drowning…" He certainly looked like he had just nearly drown; he still wasn't breathing steadily and he was deathly pale… or more so than before anyway.

"Drowning?" 'When did that hap—Oh yeah!' With a lurch, Phoenix remembered the scene all-too-well: the challenge they had made, his and Larry's roughhousing, and then the frantic struggle to rescue Miles from the bottom of the rocking pool.

"M-my dad… He was… he was there and… Wh-why isn't m-my dad here too?" He was suddenly looking at Phoenix with a desperate longing, wanting the answer to this question that had just popped into his head so unexpectedly.

"Uh…" Now what was he supposed to do? Miles didn't remember any of it; he only could recall what he had just seen. How was Phoenix supposed to look at him lying there like that and tell him his father had been dead for 17 years, especially since his friend practically had the mind of a child at this point.

"Phoenix, I want to know where… where my father is. Please…"

Phoenix. He was calling him Phoenix now. The only memory he had was that day at the water park when they were nine years old, and it had overridden everything from before he had fallen asleep. "Edgeworth…" He had no idea what to say. "Your father is… He's… not here…"

"But where is he?" There were tears in his eyes now; he was panicking for a reason Phoenix could not ascertain. "I… I want my father… Where is he…?"

"Edgeworth…" Wright moved forward and, hesitantly, slid his arm behind the man's shoulders once again. "Please, calm down, okay. You're safe right now."

"B-but…" He was now shaking with sobs as he gripped Wright's arm tightly. "I-it hurts… I… I want my father…"

Wright just knelt there, keeping his arm still as Miles cried into his jacket. This all felt so wrong; this should not be happening. He felt uncomfortable to say the least, but at the same time he couldn't bear to just stand back and watch his friend suffer. This was all he knew to do. He could not tell Miles that Gregory was dead; he didn't have it in him, and at the same time he didn't want to lie to him. So, it was best to just say nothing, to dance around the subject and hope his friend would give up the search at least until things calmed down.

He sighed and looked down at where the small radio they had given him was tucked in a chest pocket of his suit jacket. He hadn't heard anything from any of them since Gumshoe had left, and he could only pray that things were going all right. They had instructed him to wait here, as a final defense should the battle come this far. He didn't want to see it get this far, for that would mean the others had failed and possibly been killed. He shuddered at the thought of it, and he felt Miles shift a bit on his arm.

"When can we go home?"

"When everybody comes back."

"…When will that be?"

Wright sighed and placed his forehead on the edge of the bed wearily. "I don't know…"


	19. Chapter 19

Good Enough 

(The chapter right before the climax! WOOT! Sorry it took so long, by the way; I got an idea for a new story and I've been really distracted with it, but I know I need to keep this one up first priority. So anyway, enjoy!)

Chapter 19

"Put your gun down and get against the wall!" Manfred von Karma's face was red with fury and his hands trembled, but he did not allow his hold on the young man to weaken.

"You really don't get it, do you, Mr. von Karma?" It was taking everything she had to keep her hand and her expression steady. If it hadn't been for all of those years of training, she would have discarded the pistol immediately and backed off, anything to save her best friend's life. Her only hope now was to outlast the old man, make him think there was no way to break her, make him think that killing Ares would not solve anything.

"She's not going to let you go to save me," came Ares' emotionless voice from below him. "The job is about the unconditional success of the mission. If it comes to that point… I'm expendable."

"Be quiet, Boy!" The barrel of the gun was now digging into the center of his throat and he was forced the rest of the way down to the floor. A violent jolt surged through him as he choked, and his hands moved instinctively to von Karma's wrist to try and remove the pressure now crushing his windpipe. His teeth gritted as he strained and his face paled beyond its usual lack of color.

Watching her friend writhe and struggle was not something Tilea had ever been able to handle, only this time it wasn't so simple to just protect him. She couldn't hide her anger now, taking fierce, heavy breaths through bared fangs. The hand that gripped her pistol shook and she cursed her own vulnerability.

Tilea jumped slightly as she heard a small gasp from the other side of the room. She looked sideways and saw Franziska staring at the door in horror, and a glance in that direction revealed five men with guns descending the stairs. As they watched, Gumshoe began to back away, for he had been standing at the bottom of the steps and did not wish to be near these men. However, they were now trapped and severely outnumbered considering Tilea and Gumshoe were the only ones carrying weapons.

Franziska began to look around frantically, desperate to find _anything_ of use to them, but instead she found that the situation was about to get much worse. "Tilea, put the gun down!" she choked, covering her face with her hands. She didn't know what was in that needle, but if it was in her father's hand it wasn't good.

From where she stood, Phoenix could not see von Karma's free hand. However, she could see something else that made her nearly release her weapon that Franziska could not see.

Ares was no longer trying to push the gun away. To the contrary, his right hand was now over the hand with which Manfred held the gun. It was difficult to see from a distance in the dark, but Tilea knew what he was trying to do simply because he had gone through the same training as she had, and one key point that had been stressed several times:

"_Death is better than failure."_ He was going to force von Karma to kill him, taking away the man's leverage and allowing Phoenix to get her shot in. Unfortunately, he could not see the others that had entered the room.

"Ares, don't!"

Ares' hand stiffened, but it wasn't her shout that had stopped him. A sharp, stabbing pain had made its presence known in the side of his neck, and an uncontrollable terror had seized the young man in the few moments of anticipation. This was it: he knew what was about to happen to him, what he was about to be reduced to, and he could only wish he had dislodged that bullet in time.

Von Karma drew back the gun to allow the terrible scream to escape his captive's throat. Another scream joined it momentarily, though it was muffled as Franziska still had her face covered. This was a nightmare; she had no idea what was happening to him, but she had never in her life heard anything so terrifying. It wasn't like in the movies when characters were being tortured or dying in some horribly graphic way. She had never been a fan of those, but she could watch them without flinching. This… just the sound of his scream was too real; she didn't even have to look over at him to feel faint.

Tilea, on the other hand, was silent, staring in frozen horror at what was happening to her best friend. Once before had she seen it—though it hadn't been quite this bad—and she knew that it had happened one time before that, though she hadn't been present at the time. Yes, she had recently watched it happen to Miles, but… there was so much more desperation and anguish in Ares' reaction that she too felt as if she could simply black out at the sight of this. The boy's eyes were squeezed shut and he writhed in his captor's grasp, all regards for stoicism suddenly nonexistent. Phoenix herself had even forgotten about the gun she held.

"S-stop! Please!" Tears were streaming down his pale face, and with a lurch Phoenix realized that something was terribly wrong. Even in this much pain, Ares would not beg like this unless he was not in control of himself. Sure, he probably could not have stopped the scream, but that needle had only gone in once and the torture had only just begun. He should not have been broken so easily.

"Please! I-I'm… I'm s-sorry! I… I never meant for anyone to… to find out… Please…"

He was no longer in Germany, no longer in the dark basement of von Karma's hiding place for the past two months. He was no longer nineteen years old, no longer an agent of the FBI. Age fifteen and completely helpless, Ares lay on the wooden floor of the house that belonged to his father, who had recently been arrested for attempting to kill him. Now, four men were surrounding the boy, one pinning him in place with one hand and holding the needle with the other while the rest cheered him on. Punishment for sending his father—a member of their 'organization'—to prison. Punishment for being rescued. Punishment for not keeping his mouth shut and his head down.

Meanwhile, outside of Ares' troubled mind, Tilea released her gun, unable to stand this sight any longer. She knew what was going on now, and memories of finding him after their brutal torment, bleeding and covered in gasoline, were flashing before her mind's eye. "All right!" she roared over her friend's cries. "Just stop this! Let him go!"

Silence fell over the room's inhabitants save for the sobs of Ares and Franziska. Von Karma turned his head to look sideways at Tilea with a pleased grin. "Pathetic," he hissed. "It was easy to see just by looking at this boy that he is nothing but a frightened and weak child. And as for you, Phoenix…" He spat her name as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. "…You gave yourself away. Miles Edgeworth mentioned your name as his caretaker, which means you have compassion for those who are suffering. This boy is not your partner; he follows you for protection, and you cannot bear not being able to give him that protection." He paused, drawing Ares' head back and sliding the point of the needle up his bruised throat. "Am I correct?"

"For how long have you been insane, Manfred von Karma?" It was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed to stop herself from losing that self-control altogether. "Most would argue that your time in prison has driven you over the edge, and I will agree that said time is a factor. However, according to everything I know about you, you've been unstable for a good many years."

"Insane?" Manfred just laughed. "I am in _perfect_ control! Everything I've done has been of my own design!"

Tilea closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "I don't think that's true," she stated, before opening her eyes again. "I don't think murdering Gregory Edgeworth was planned at all."

Manfred stood, partially blocking Ares from view. The boy was not moving; he was still completely unaware of where he really was. "Perhaps not, but all the events that occurred afterward were—"

"—of the design of a madman," Tilea finished for him. "I had always found it astonishing that Franziska lived past her infancy in your care, or lack thereof. However, though you may have been ruthless in court and cold-hearted, you were not sadistic and violent before you murdered a man for no real reason. Only a madman would take in the child of his victim and raise him for the soul purpose of crushing him in humiliating defeat after he had become a success, which you would take all the credit for. Your anger and hatred is infantile! The level of revenge you have taken against Gregory Edgeworth far exceeds any damage he could have ever done to you!"

"What are you, my psychiatrist? Get against the wall! All of you!" He had no retort for this, because she was right and he knew it. He would escape; he would not dare admit her ability to get into his head. It was infuriating and almost frightening. This girl had no right to think him evil; what kind of magick was she working?!

Not allowing any sort of defeat to cross her expression, Tilea backed up a few steps until she stood with her back against the wall. Gumshoe also scrambled to a wall, but Franziska didn't move. She stayed where she was on the floor beside the support beam, though it didn't seem she was about to try and stop him. All three of them were at gunpoint from one of the men that had come to von Karma's aid.

Manfred grabbed hold of the shaking boy and pulled him up from the ground, dragging him along, the barrel of the gun still aimed at his head, and headed past everyone and began his ascent. However, before he got too far, he turned to look back down at his men. "Kill them all."

He turned his back as an explosion of gun blasts and shouts sounded behind him. He moved quickly up the stairs, and when he reached the top, he turned and cocked the pistol once more, preparing to eliminate the hostage he no longer needed.

It all happened in a matter of a second: Ares' eyes flew open at the sound and his mind returned to him. An impulse triggered within him and he pushed hard off of the older man just as a flash of light blinded him. He felt himself flying backward, falling, colliding with cold stone, and tumbling. Another scream, his name shouted over all the noise, and then nothing…

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Ares!" Tilea had happened to glance up at the sound of a gunshot above them and saw her friend falling backward down the stairs. Her head swam and her vision blurred, pure panic overwhelming her. A bullet burst from her retrieved pistol and pierced the throat of one of their attackers. She began to run, firing again and taking out another whose attention had been focused on the unarmed Franziska.

He couldn't be dead… It was impossible… After everything, after all this time… He couldn't be dead!

She leapt forward and tackled another man against the wall, splitting open the back of his head and knocking him out cold before he even had a chance to realize what had just happened to him. She spun wildly around, her hair flying out behind her and falling in front of her black eyes, which were burning with fires of uncontrollable rage.

They had killed him… They would die… Every last one…

A man flew back away from Detective Gumshoe, who had gotten a hold of the crowbar he had initially carried and bashed the fourth lackey across the face with it. On the other side of the room, Franziska had found it in herself to move, getting a hold of one of the fallen men's guns and standing. She was now firing at the remaining man, and Tilea joined her. One of Franziska's bullets hit his arm, but she soon found herself out of ammunition. She glanced around for a moment, and then her chest tightened with fear.

Her father had left. And where would he go?

Without even considering what she was doing, Franziska made a run for it, leaping over someone who lay at the bottom of the stairs—not even bothering to look down and see who it was—and sprinted up to the ground level, wheeling around a corner and flying through corridors toward the entrance hall. She had to catch him; she couldn't let him reach the copter, although she had no idea how she would stop him even if she caught up.

Meanwhile, Tilea had seen the other woman leaving the battle and had shouted after her, but there was no way she could give chase. There was still one man left and she couldn't leave Ares here like this. Unfortunately, she too found herself out of bullets. With great force she threw her gun at their last enemy and then jumped after it, clothes-lining him and knocking him to the ground with enough power to make him lose consciousness as well. She spun around again and dashed across the room, sliding to the floor on her knees and stopping beside Ares, hearing Gumshoe panting in the background as an eerie silence set in around them.

"Ares!" He had to be okay. There was no way she had lost him, not after everything they had been through. This couldn't happen; she wouldn't let it!

Phoenix slid an arm beneath Ares and lifted his upper body into a tight embrace, placing her chin on his shoulder as a sob rattled her. "Ares!" His head was bleeding along with his nose and mouth. The fluid was now trickling down her back as she held him, her tears sliding down his. "Ares, please wake up…"

She couldn't remember the last time she had really cried. Had it been that night Ares had just been reliving? The night she had found him mangled, an inch from death, covered in blood and gasoline? Yes, that had to be it; she had not cried since then. She had not been so afraid since then. But back then she had had her cell phone to call for help. She couldn't find it now; it wasn't in her pocket and she had not the faintest inkling of where she had dropped it in this Hellish dungeon.

"M-miss Tilea…" Gumshoe was watching nervously and with a great amount of pity. Still, the fight wasn't over yet. "W-we have t-to…"

"Mew!"

Slowly, Phoenix looked up at the sound of quick and padded footsteps coming toward her and saw a small shape moving down the stairs. "O-Oreo?" She blinked, her confused and shocked state of mind slowing her processing abilities. However, it didn't take too long. "Oreo… G-go get help!"

"Mew!" The creature immediately wheeled back around and bolted out of sight, a shadowed streak flying into the light at the top of the stairs and vanishing. Another sob shook the girl, but she reluctantly placed Ares gently back on the floor, hoping against the odds that someone would find him in time. He was her best friend, but the mission was not complete. Duty called.

"Detective… Please… stay with him until someone comes. I… I have to go now." She wiped her face with the back of her hand though the tears were still flowing.

"Y-yes, Ma'am…" He looked somewhat afraid and uncertain now. What if there were more of these guys around; he'd be alone with this dying kid and bunch of dead bodies.

"Thank you, Detective… Thank you… so much." With that, she was gone, flying up the stairs just as the others had done.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Both men jumped as a loud banging suddenly reached their ears. Miles' head came up from Phoenix's arm as he gasped. "What was that?"

Wright was staring at the closed doors of the cabin, wide-eyed and pale-faced. Someone was trying to force their way into the helicopter, and everyone who was a friend knew how to open the doors. "Don't move," he said to Edgeworth before standing and heading for the other part of the craft. As he entered, he saw with horror that the intruder had discovered how to get in and Manfred von Karma burst inside, wielding a pistol.

Fortunately, Wright had also been given a firearm and Manfred froze as he heard that all-to-familiar click from just in front of him.

"Don't move!" Phoenix Wright shouted, holding the weapon at arm's length and pointing it at the older man. Manfred stared at the spiky-haired young man, suddenly experiencing a strange sensation.

He was in court, standing just yards away from this blue-eyed boy, two desks standing between them, and Miles Edgeworth behind another stand off to the side. This boy was defending him, and he was winning. "OBJECTION!" His left arm extended, aiming an index finger directly at von Karma as if it were a weapon he was using to protect his 'friend', a ferocity in his eyes that only one other lawyer had looked at him with in all forty years of his time in court.

"Phoenix Wright," Manfred growled, once again staring down the barrel of a gun. He had come to hate that word, that name. Phoenix. It meant nothing but sabotage. How was it that this mythological beast of strength and immortality had chosen to guard that pathetic excuse for a human being that was probably hiding somewhere in this craft? Why not him?! Why not the von Karmas! Such strength and relentless power should belong to them! Those protective flames were being wasted on the Edgeworth boy!

"What happened to the others!?" Wright demanded, his hand shaking as horrible thoughts danced around in his mind. If this man had been allowed to get this far, then didn't that mean…?

"They are currently being dealt with while you hide in here with a dying dog." He was smirking now, thankful that this Phoenix wasn't so difficult to scare. "Now, stand aside so I can finish what I started!"

"Never!" If only he wasn't so frightened, so gentle, he would have fired that gun and it would all have been over. He could threaten all he wanted, but von Karma could plainly see that he was not in danger of being shot by this man. "You stay back or I'll… I'll…"

Manfred began to laugh. "Your bleeding heart won't allow it!" He simply stepped forward and took hold of the pistol, twisting it out of Wright's hand and pushing him back against the door. He let the extra gun drop to the floor—he still carried Ares' firearm—and made to force his way into the other room. Phoenix wasn't about to give up so easily, however, and grabbed his attacker's wrist, twisting it and pushing him away.

This struggle soon transformed into an all-out brawl, and Phoenix—like Miles—was astonished at the power of this old man. Wright was able to hold him off for a few minutes, but it wasn't long before he hit the ground too hard, and everything turned a foggy shade of white, his auditory sense failed him, and he found himself unable to rise.

Von Karma spat on the floor near Wright. "Pathetic," he sneered, turning and heading back to the door he knew he had to entered to find what he was looking for. He threw his shoulder against it a few times and it gave way, revealing a cabin with several chairs and a bed on the far end.

"There you are, Boy." The smirk had returned as he advanced on Miles, who was cowering against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible as if this would trick von Karma into believing him gone. Manfred noted that his hair had already been cut and that he wore a new black sweater, hiding his scarred and bruised torso. 'That's too bad,' he thought with mock sympathy. 'They were so sure they had succeeded.'

"S-stay away from me!" There were tears in his eyes as he stared in horror at the man they had promised him he'd never see again. This wasn't how they said it was going to happen; they were all supposed to come back and take him home, away from this horrible place forever. Had Phoenix… lied to him?

Manfred strode over to the bed and reached across it, grabbing hold of the collar of Miles' shirt and dragging him closer, drawing his pistol with his free hand. "Did you honestly think you could get away from me?" he hissed, pressing the cold metal up against his victim's throat. Miles didn't know what this thing was or what it did, but somehow the loud click that issued from it told him that death was near, sending his panic level to new heights.

"No!" he cried, trying to pull away and pushing on the gun. "Please, Master, d-don't do it!"

"Lie still!" He removed his hand from the shirt to the back of Miles' neck, gripping painfully and putting pressure on one of his most recent wounds. Miles froze completely, though he continued to whimper and shake in anticipation of what was coming.

"I'm sorry… Please… don't kill me…"

Manfred was leaning over him so that their faces were less than a foot apart and he could clearly see the terror and desperation in the young man's dull gray eyes. "I told you from the beginning that you would die by my hand. Consider it a favor, deliverance from your pathetic existence."

"Franziska…"

"Goodnight, Miles Edgewor—"

He was falling. A shot rang out, but he hadn't yet meant to pull the trigger. He fell hard onto his back, though a much smaller body blocked him from hitting the floor. He struggled with whomever had pulled him down, and they struggled back with a fierceness he did not expect for someone so small. Still, he was victorious and found himself pinning his daughter to the carpeted floor of the jet.

"You." He held her firmly in place, and no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't budge him. "You want to fight me, Girl? And here I thought you couldn't get any stupider."

Franziska gasped as he wrenched her up by her right arm and slung her against a wall, causing her to cry out. He kept his grip on her arm and wrapped the fingers of his free hand around her slender neck. He felt a sharp pain in one of his shins and assumed she had kicked him, but it didn't faze him. "You, of all people, should know better than to stand in my way!"

"Get off of her!" Wright collided with him and they both fell. Franziska was pulled down for a moment before her father released her, but she made a grab for anything within her reach to hold herself up.

She didn't find anything to grab onto, but two hands closed around her outstretched arm and pulled. It hurt, and even more so when her ribs hit the side of the bed, but she was able to quickly push herself up and avoid falling into the tangle of limbs below. She tried to stand up straight, but she found herself halfway lying on the bed and looked over to see that Miles was clutching her arm, keeping her from falling.

"Miles…" She stared at him, forgetting everything else that was going on behind her. She had gotten a glimpse of him upon entering the room, but had had no time to really look. Now here he was right in front of her, half-dead and destroyed, staring back at her with dull eyes that seemed to have a permanent look of fear within them. How many times had she looked into those eyes? She didn't even recognize them now. How could this be the man who had saved her life probably more times than she was aware, the man who would go to any lengths to protect her, the man whom she had loved ever since she was a child?

"How can this be what's left of you?" she whispered, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. He simply watched her for what felt like an eternity before finally giving his response, which was just as quiet.

"I'm sorry…"


	20. Chapter 20

Good Enough

Chapter 20

**_Gotta' cut away, clear away  
Slip away and sever this  
_****_Umbilical residue  
Keeping me from killing you_**

**-A Perfect Circle: "Orestes"**

Franziska turned her head quickly as she heard Wright yell something behind her, bringing her out of the little world that she and Miles had momentarily occupied. She watched as the defense attorney—face covered in blood—twisted his way out of Manfred's grasp and gave the older man a powerful shove, managing to push him over a row of seats that were firmly attached to the floor of the jet. She pulled away from Miles and stood up as Wright came quickly over to make sure they were both all right, though he looked like he needed medical attention himself.

Unfortunately, Manfred wouldn't be so easily gotten rid of. He pulled himself up using the back of one of the seats he had just been flipped over. He had to stop and look as soon as he saw the other three in the room, and he nearly laughed. "How noble!"

Franziska and Phoenix stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the bed Miles lay upon. Wright's face was bloody and he was out of breath, but his blue eyes held that same determination that the German man remembered from facing him in court. Franziska, on the other hand, appeared to be thinking about several things at once. She was standing in defense of her lover, but there was a stunned expression in her eyes, as if she was dazed. He smirked at this sight, for he knew it was the effect of seeing Edgeworth like this that had her shocked. He savored the sight, and hoped he would be able to see the full manifestations of it before he disposed of all of them.

"We won't let you do this." Franziska nearly cringed at her own voice; it was strangled, caused by the dryness of her throat and the lump that had formed against her will. She knew it sounded weak and hated the look that crossed her father's face as he heard it.

"You seem to think I will waste my time persuading you two to get out of my way," Manfred commented, the mad glint in his eyes unable to be ignored. "Honestly, would it not be more efficient to just kill you both and save myself the trouble?"

"You're a sick man," Wright growled, still trying to catch his breath. "You'd… kill your own daughter?"

"You should know by now, Mr. Wright: I am free of petty attachments. No one is special. If you get in my way, you will be eliminated. Gregory Edgeworth scarred my perfect record with his bold accusations, so I ended his life and continued my vengeance against him by laying out a path to destruction for his son. Now you, Mr. Wright, will pay for your part in destroying me; you have had this coming for a while now. Miles Edgeworth, in addition to injuring me that day and then defying my design for him fifteen years later, has managed to defile any sort of legacy I left behind, and he has been punished for it and will die for it."

Although the others had heard enough, his maddened rant was not finished yet, and his gaze now fell upon his daughter, who could not help but shudder beneath it. "And Franziska… You have been a nuisance to me since the day you were born. You have never lived up to the von Karma name, and yet I still spent time and effort to train you to be my heir, and though you didn't deserve it, I gave you that title. But, like an ungrateful, selfish child, you have refused that position and renounced your allegiance to me. You have declared yourself no longer a von Karma and left me with nothing. For this, you will die. You are worthless to me now."

Franziska simply stood there staring back at him, every word drilling into her with a force that she had not anticipated. Yes, she hated this man and had no desire to ever be a part of any legacy he planned to leave, but somehow, it still hurt. As unfortunate as it was, this man was still her father, and to hear one's parent speak these words and to have the fact that you were never loved presented in plain speech right to your face… It hurt, and there was no avoiding it.

"Well, Franziska?" His eyes bored into her as he watched the effect his words were having on this girl. "You had quite a bit to say earlier. Why so quiet now?"

Phoenix could not believe what he was hearing. How could a father ever say these things to his daughter; how could he even _think_ these things? It was unfathomable to him that a parent could have absolutely no love for their child whatsoever, how he could simply see her as something he could shape and mold into his image, something to live through after his days as a prosecutor had ended. He pitied this woman and held a new respect for her at the same time. She was strong, and as he watched her collect herself and prepare to speak instead of crumpling to the floor and crying, he realized just how strong.

"There is only one thing that comes to mind… Manfred von Karma."

Anger flashed across his face. "What did you just say?" he snarled. The audacity of this child! Refering to him by his full name in a complete lack of respect for his authority. "I am your father and you will—"

"_Du bist mein Vater nicht!"_

Before Wright could intervene, a fierce brawl broke out before his eyes. Manfred was dragging Franziska away from the bed, but she was fighting with a viciousness he had never seen in her, not even in court. Dazed, Wright did not move from his spot, and instead turned to look back at the man lying on the bed behind him.

Miles was watching in silent awe mixed with utter terror. This whole episode was overwhelming and it was beyond him what was going on and what he was supposed to be doing or thinking. Seeing that woman in this position gave him the urge to get up and fight that man as well, but he didn't know why and was physically incapable of doing so.

However, something that man had said had captured his attention. Gregory Edgeworth. He knew that name; it had been in his dream. That was his father, but that man had said something about ending his life. So… did that mean that the man who had been keeping him prisoner and torturing him for as long as his memory extended had also killed his father? Did that mean that his father was… dead?

Miles suddenly noticed that Wright was looking at him, and he began to shift his gaze from the spiky-haired man to the fight and back again. And suddenly, he heard himself saying, "Help her…"

As if he had been hit with something, Wright jumped and backed away a bit, suddenly snapping back to reality. Without another moment's hesitation, he whirled around and ran to Franziska's aid, pulling her out of the way as Manfred attempted to render her unconscious with a sheet of metal he had broken off of something in the room that Phoenix could not identify.

Unfortunately, this action put himself in harm's way, and he quickly found himself lying on his back on the floor, vision and hearing fading in and out as a searing pain surged through his head. He faintly thought he heard Franziska scream, but he had no time to consider this as something descended toward him and brought on total darkness.

Franziska watched in horror as Manfred struck the unconscious man repetitively with his weapon. She had to do something quickly or he would be beaten to death. Her eyes now darted around the cabin frantically searching for anything she could grab. She had to settle on a folded-up steel chair lying near the bed, obviously intended for keeping post near Miles considering the other seats were stationary and nowhere near him. She made a leap for her weapon of choice and took it up, wheeling back around and bounding forward to strike the old man from behind. He stumbled, having been taken by surprise, and she took this opportunity to knock the sheet of metal out of his hands with the chair.

Franziska swung at him a third time, but he had recovered by now and whirled around to catch the chair with both hands before it hit him. This was painful, of course, but not nearly as painful as it would have been had the steel connected with his head. He pushed back on it, ramming it into Franziska's chest and throwing her backward. She hit the wall hard with the wind knocked out of her, and Manfred cast the chair aside, for he did not need it to fight her.

"Stupid girl!" he growled as he pinned her against the wall. "If Miles Edgeworth could not overpower me, what makes you think you can?"

He was right, she couldn't even push him away now. She had to think of something, and fast. In a move of desperation, she spat in his face, and taking advantage of his surprise and disgust, was able to worm her way out of his grasp and dart across the room, hoping to find something of use as she went.

And all she found was a gun.

When Manfred wheeled around to give chase, he froze at the sound of a click and found himself staring down the barrel of the gun he had brought in here with him. The woman holding it was trembling uncontrollably and gasping for breath, but her expression was one of fury, teeth bared and eyes fixed on Manfred's face from behind the pistol.

At first he hesitated, watching to see what she would do, but when she did not move, he began to laugh. "Going to kill me, Franziska?"

She didn't say anything, but her mind was racing. Yes! Yes, she needed to do this! He had hurt so many people, including the person who was most important to her. If she didn't do this, he would kill them both. And yet…

"Perhaps you can still prove yourself to me after all." His madness showed vividly now in his facial features. He was smirking, void of fear though death stared right at him. "Go ahead then, Girl. Pull the trigger. End my life and take my place. This is your chance to be just like me. Come on, Franziska, make your old man proud!"

No… Not like this… He would kill his own daughter, but she was not a demon. She could not murder her father, no matter how much she hated him and claimed to disown him.

She took in a deep, shaking breath, and her response was strained and barely audible.

"No… I'm not like you."

"Very well then." Before she knew it, he had come forward and taken hold of the gun. With his free hand, he pushed her down onto the floor against the bed and held the gun just inches from her face. Her heart beat heavily in her ears as she stared up into his eyes, his insanity all she could see there. She was going to die; there was nothing holding him back. Her entire body was stiff as she waited in torturous anticipation for the end…

…And suddenly he was gone. She continued to stare at the place where his face had just been, but all she could see was black material. She remained frozen as she tried to get her thoughts back in order; they seemed to have shut down on her when she was preparing to take her final breath, but now she needed them. She needed to understand why she wasn't dead and why her father was no longer in front of her.

She closed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Then, she opened them again and looked up. Okay, her father was still in the room naturally, but he was fighting again. From her position, all she could see was the other person's attire, a black dress suit with a sleeveless top. Phoenix? No, the shouts she was hearing belonged to a man. Ares? No, he always wore long sleeves and this man's arms were not covered in scars; his skin was clear…

The man turned in his struggle and she saw his face, but she didn't recognize it one bit. However, his clothes looked identical to Tilea's, only stretched to fit this man's frame. They weren't really 'woman's' clothes; Tilea dressed very androgynously, but that was definitely her suit.

Franziska rubbed her eyes and looked again, but there was no change. This didn't make any sense: not only had a complete stranger just shown up and attacked her father, effectively saving her life at least momentarily, but he was wearing Tilea's suit. She concentrated harder on his face, trying to remember it, and suddenly she found something familiar, though not in the way she had expected. She had never seen this man before, but he bore an uncanny likeness to someone she knew very well.

It was at that exact moment that she felt a hand grip her shoulder from behind, causing her to jump. She whipped her head around and saw that Miles had moved to the edge of the bed and had reached for her. She gazed up at him, and her hand moved up to grasp his. "Miles…?"

"I knew my father would come," he was smiling, though he looked exhausted and his head still lay against his pillow.

"W-what…?" Her expression turned from perplexed to shocked as she stared up at him. She then turned her gaze back toward the fight to look at the stranger once more. Yes, he looked like Miles… or did Miles look like him? No, no, no! That was impossible! Miles' father was dead; her father had killed him seventeen years ago before she and Miles had even met.

"My father won't let anything happen to us." He was speaking so quietly due to his weakness that it almost sounded as if he was talking to himself. He looked as if he could pass out at any moment, but he was smiling, so happy and relieved to see his father here defending them.

"Miles… That's…" How could she tell him? It was impossible, but he seemed so sure. Yet, how could he know? He didn't remember anyone; how could he have remembered his father's face after seventeen years and not remember the faces of those he knew only a couple of months ago?

Suddenly, something came to her, causing her to gasp and clap a hand over her mouth. A man who was supposed to be dead had come to their aid, and he was wearing Tilea's clothes. Could it be? Could this be the power Ares had been telling her about? Sure, she had heard of it; Maya Fey was supposed to be able to 'channel' spirits, but Franziska had never _actually_ believed in it or been faced with it as far as she knew. Her first case against Phoenix Wright had dealt with mediums and whatnot, but in that case she had only sort of… played along with the whole channeling thing, and it had turned out that there had been none involved in the end. And in that case, she had read that the mediums only changed in appearance slightly, and this man looked nothing like Phoenix Tilea at all, which would have been a rather odd sight upon considering it.

So… What was going on here? Was this Miles' father reawakened from the dead by Agent Tilea, or was Miles just hallucinating, which—unfortunately—seemed more likely?

She continued to watch the fight, and to her amazement, the stranger was winning! Franziska made an attempt to rise, maybe to help him, but Miles would not allow it. She was surprised at his remaining strength. "Don't," he said. "You'll get hurt." He paused as she stared up at him. "You can… come up her with me. It would be safer…"

Franziska blinked. He had no idea who she was, right? So, why was he being so protective? Maybe… Maybe some part of him remembered; maybe he had developed an instinct to protect her that hadn't yet been stamped out.

And, as if on cue, the fight was coming toward her, and one of them was falling. Franziska screamed and only just moved out of the way before the stranger fell on her. Quickly, she scrambled up onto the bed to avoid getting mixed up in this fierce battle, which she had realized suddenly that she did not want to be a part of. She was now on all fours on the end of the bed, as far away from the two brawling men as she could get.

To her dismay and Miles' horror, Manfred now had the younger man pinned in the same place he had earlier been preparing to shoot his daughter, only he was not holding a gun this time.

"Who are you!?" Manfred roared while fighting for breath.

The stranger was breathing just as heavily as his opponent, but he looked considerably calmer, save for a flaming determination in his eyes that Franziska could recognize even at a distance as the same look she had seen so many times in Miles' eyes. "You should already know the answer to that, Manfred." His voice was naturally soft, but there was an underlying tone of command that could not be ignored. It was gentle and powerful in the same instance, though it was currently a bit hoarse due to his struggle for air. "Or does your insane obsession have no face?"

"Don't toy with me!" Manfred pulled the other man forward and pushed him back again, slamming the back of his head against the bar running alongside the bed. "Gregory Edgeworth is dead!"

"Thanks to you, but haven't you ever heard of vengeance from beyond the grave?"

"What is this nonsense!?"

The younger man was now laughing softly despite his position. "Ever since you took my life that day you've continued to exact your revenge by punishing my son, even though you had already eliminated me. You think to continue vengeance against the dead, but you never considered that they might return the favor."

Gregory's head was smashed against the metal bar again, but he continued to chuckle in morbid amusement.

Meanwhile, Miles was staring back and forth between the two other men, a look of confusion and fear on his face. He knew this was his father; it had to be, but… they were saying that his father was dead, killed by the man that had been torturing him for as long as he could remember. His father couldn't be dead because he was sitting right there, but… "F… Father…?"

"I demand you stop this _lunacy_ and tell me who you are!"

"You're the only lunatic here, Manfred."

"Father?"

"You _are not_ Gregory Edgeworth!"

"Actually, he is."

All three men were suddenly looking at Franziska, who was sitting cross-legged on the end of Miles bed. Miles looked hopeful, Manfred looked livid, and Gregory… simply looked curious.

"Phoenix Tilea has other ways of changing her identity than simply dressing up as some pathetic street-wanderer."

"What the hell are you babbling about, Girl?!" Manfred demanded, appearing as if he'd like to lunge at her instead of listening to what she had to say. "What does this have to do with that deceiving little—"

"What the young lady is trying to say," Gregory interrupted, "is that I am being channeled through one of their friends who has the power to summon the dead back to the living realm. Did you not pay attention to the DL-6 case at all?" Having caught his breath, Gregory was able to throw Manfred off of him. There was a small struggle and Manfred now stood back away from the other three while Gregory stood in front of his son. "Did you not even pay attention to the part where I was summoned back by Misty Fey to testify about my own murder, in which case I falsely accused Yanni Yogi because I was under the misconception that my son had accidentally delivered the killing blow. I regret that I didn't know the truth back then; I could have saved many people a great deal of pain."

"You… This can't be…" He couldn't even collect his thoughts he was so angry and shocked. Manfred von Karma was standing face-to-face with the man he had murdered seventeen years ago. For the first time he could remember, he was actually… frightened…

"After what you did to Ares," Franziska continued, receiving a glare from her father for daring to speak again, "Tilea knew she wouldn't be able to focus properly in a battle. So, she decided to call back the person she knew would defeat you no matter what."

"This young lady is quite intelligent," commented Gregory, smiling over at Franziska while Manfred's glare strengthened. "It is true. I don't know the medium who is channeling me, but I was left a note explaining the basics of what has been going on here and said medium's reasons for summoning me to fight in their place. I'm grateful to this person for calling me to this battle; revenge might be a sin, but after everything you've done to Miles… Well, it's about time I put an end to you."

Manfred could not even measure his own anger. This was the strangest thing that had ever happened to him, and he barely understood it, effectively enraging him further. "Those are highly arrogant words for a dead man," he snarled in response. "You could not defeat me in life! What makes you think you can defeat me from beyond the grave!?"

Gregory closed his eyes and chuckled softly. "In a court of law, there are rules and procedures that must be observed. However, you always fought as if it was no holes barred and got away with it." He opened his eyes again and the fire within them seemed to have intensified while they were hidden. "Manfred von Karma, you have never seen me fight dirty."

And with that, Gregory lunged forward to tackle the older man to the ground. There was a loud crash and the battle was on once more. Franziska was finding it difficult to tell who was winning the majority of the time, for the two of them were in a fierce grappling match, each trying to break something of the other's.

Franziska continued to observe the ferocious battle between their fathers, and couldn't help but frown at the Shakespearian cliché. She then turned her gaze to Miles, trying to read the expression on his face. She couldn't imagine how confusing all of this must be to him. He barely remembered who he was, much less the events that had happened in his life to lead up to this that would aid him in comprehending the odd conversation that had just taken place. She was surprised he hadn't just shut down and ignored it all after discovering that he didn't understand.

"Franziska…?"

"Hm?" She had been looking over at him, but she hadn't realized he was returning her gaze.

"What… What's happening?" he questioned timidly. None of it made any sense to him; he had thought he understood this, but now…

Franziska opened her mouth to explain, then closed it again. She needed a moment to consider her response. It had to be simple, for his mind was so damaged that he'd be easy to lose with anything complicated. Also, it needed to be optimistic. He needed hope, even if things weren't quite written in stone. She felt that he would need to believe they were saved, even if there was no guarantee.

As a matter of fact, she probably did as well. This emotional rollercoaster was just too much…

"_There's always a light at the end of the tunnel. Just hope it's not a train."_

"Your father is protecting us, Miles," she finally said. There was no need to explain his father's presence, no need to explain the history between them, and no need to express the doubt that this would all turn out for the best with no consequences. That's all she needed to say.

And she saw him smile again, resting his head. "I was right," he nearly whispered. "I'm tired of not understand…. I was finally… right."

Just as Franziska was about to consider whether she should smile at him or start crying due to seeing him like this, that small sound that could make anyone freeze without question came to her ears, and she did just that.

There had been a shout of pain, and then a click, and slowly Franziska turned to look at the scene, her heart racing with anticipation at who was holding the gun. She was holding her breath, the fraction of a second that it took her brain to process the scene feeling like eons.

And she released it, though her body trembled. Gregory held the gun. It was almost over.

"Many people fear that the ghosts of their past may one day return to haunt them, drive them mad with guilt and anxiety. But not you. No, you let your sins and demons linger about to cause others pain. You thought that by keeping your enemies—those you hated—close and under your control, you could keep them from destroying you. Well… Look what you've created. Who could have guessed that your ghost would return to end your life…"

"…Goodbye, Manfred von Karma."

The blast seemed to envelope the entire world around them, and for a moment, time stood still, all occupants of the room hanging in suspended animation, before blood burst from Manfred von Karma's chest. His body tensed and stiffened, and then he fell, slumped to the ground and lay motionless.

It was over just as it had begun, with a single gunshot.


	21. Chapter 21

Good Enough 

(Well, this was originally going to be part of chapter 20, but... I just figured I seperate it because of the way 20 ended. And no, this isn't the last chapter. There will be a few more after this because I want to give you guys some insight into the recovery period without splitting it into a third story because there just isn't enough content.

Oh, and if you guys like to roleplay, Ivy deLeon and I have set up an rp forum for Phoenix Wright. Visit either of our profiles for the link.)

Chapter 21

An eerie silence surrounded them as Gregory let the pistol fall to the floor and turned around to face the other two conscious people in the room. Miles was simply staring in his general direction, looking a bit shocked but mostly oblivious. However, the young lady sitting on the end of the bed…

Franziska didn't move; she couldn't. Her gaze was frozen on her father's bleeding corpse, but she could not see it. Images flashed before her eyes, images of her childhood, of him, of herself, even some that she could not place with remembered events. She had hated him, but she had just watched him die. The man who had influenced her entire life, who had always been there lurking in the shadows or standing before her in his powerful, self-proclaimed glory… He was dead, and she had watched it happen.

Gregory slowly approached the bedside and knelt down in front of his son. "Miles?"

Miles stared back at him, lifting his head off the pillow with some effort. "Father…" He continued to gaze at the other man, noticing that something was out of place. "Where are your glasses?"

Gregory gazed back at him, greatly saddened at the sight before him. "I don't need them anymore, Son," he said with a kind smile, placing his hand on top of Miles'. "I can see just fine now."

Miles looked at him for a moment longer, and then lowered his head and muttered, "How long… has it really been? I can't… I can't remember…"

"Seventeen years," Gregory replied, amazed at this himself. Sure, Miles looked like an adult, but in his current state… it was as if he was speaking to his son as he remembered him: a child.

Without warning, a sob shook the young man's frail body as he continued to look downward. "There's probably… so many things I… I wanted to say…" he choked out between sobs. "B-but… I… I don't even know… who I am anymore."

Gregory's hand moved now to rest on Miles' upper back in a comforting way. "It's all right, Miles," he said in his gentle voice. "You don't have to say anything. It's enough for me to know that you're alive and will recover."

"I-if it weren't… f-for Wright and… the dream I had…" Miles continued painfully. "I… I wouldn't even… know wh-who you are…" His crying became harder and he lowered his head all the way to the mattress to hide the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. "I… I wouldn't even remember m-my own father!"

Gregory leaned forward slightly to embrace his son. "Miles, it's okay. I understand what's going on right now. It's not your fault."

Miles continued to cry into the black material over his father's shoulder as Gregory patted his back gently, but after a while, his sobs died down and became much more manageable. Eventually, Miles stopped shaking and his crying had become nothing but heavy breaths and the occasional sniffle. Gregory gently pushed his shoulders back onto the bed and placed a hand beneath Miles chin to lift his head so that he could see his face. "Just calm down. Everything is all right now."

Franziska had regained awareness a few minutes earlier and was watching this scene thoughtfully. So… that was what it was like to have a father. She had never had this herself, but she felt that Miles was suffering more than she. He had known what it was like to have protection and comfort and it had all been taken away from him to be replaced with bitterness and abuse. She had never known anything besides the latter, so she had nothing to miss.

"I still wish… I knew what to say," Miles mumbled, his voice even more hoarse now than it had been before.

"Really," Gregory smiled. "It's okay. I know you've seen better days and still have many to come; that's why I'm not worried."

Without a word, Franziska rose, crossing the room and doing all she could to ignore the two people lying motionless on the floor, one of them slowly being covered in blood.

"I… must look really bad right now," Miles continued, unable to avoid regretting having 'ruined' what should have been a very happy reunion.

"Don't be ridiculous," his father laughed, running a hand over Miles' cheek to brush back some of his hair. "Even after everything you've been through, you're still a handsome young man like I always knew you would be." His smile was one of pride, and Miles vaguely remembered it from his dream.

"Maybe… I can help."

Both men looked up to see the young woman standing in front of them holding a leather-bound folder in her arms. Gregory noted that she still looked distraught and thoroughly exhausted, but he felt it would not be polite to mention it.

On closer inspection, the folder turned out to be a photo album, and Franziska sat down on the floor next to Gregory—looking a bit shy—and opened it up.

"I brought as many pictures with me as I could find and put this together at the hotel room to try and keep my mind occupied while we were looking for him," Franziska began to explain as she opened to the first page. There, filling up the entire sheet, was an image Miles in a black tuxedo with his arm around Franziska's shoulders. Franziska was wearing a beautiful navy blue dress, which was complimented by silver and sapphire gems. She had her head inclined slightly to rest against his shoulder, and his was tilted toward her so that his cheek rested against the top of her head. Phoenix Wright had taken this picture of them at the prosecutor's dinner while they were out on the dance floor. They had both been reluctant and irritated, but had decided to humor him, and in the world depicted by the photo, they could not have been happier.

"I wanted something to hold on to," she continued, her voice only loud enough to carry to the two men she sat with, for there was no need to speak any louder. "And… I thought that maybe seeing these pictures would help him… remember us."

Gregory looked down at the photo with amazement. He was beaming with pride; his boy had grown into such a strong and handsome young man, despite his adversity, and on his arm was a gorgeous and elegant young woman, who—judging by the fact that she was sitting here with them, having been aiding in the fight for his freedom—was loyal and devoted. He saw no ring on her finger, indicating that they had not legally bonded yet, and he hoped that their relationship would withstand such a traumatic experience.

He looked up from the photo to smile at Franziska. "Miles is a very lucky man to have such a beautiful and devoted lady at his side," he stated and watched as her cheeks flushed and she lowered her head to try and hide it.

"Th-thank you… Sir…" she mumbled, preparing to flip the page.

"If you don't mind, Miss, what is your name?" Gregory questioned politely, and then witnessed the girl tense up considerable.

"U-um… F-Franziska…" she replied slowly, failing miserably to hide her discomfort.

Gregory frowned slightly, though it was mostly out of wonder. "No last name?" he asked, grinning, finding what he assumed to be this girl's shyness somewhat amusing.

"Uh…" Instinctively, Franziska glanced quickly back to where her father's body lay and swallowed hard as she looked back, forcing a nervous smile and tilting her head. "W-well… I-if things go smoothly… m-maybe I'll have the same last name as you two." She laughed a little, hoping he wouldn't figure it out.

Unfortunately for her, Miles' power of observation had not simply been a product of his time spent in the von Karma household. Gregory had long since been aware of her German accent and had noticed her glance. He stared at the young woman, lips parted in shock. "You're… his daughter… aren't you?"

Franziska lowered her head and gaze. Had she not been so emotionally stressed and damaged right now, she probably could have avoided this whole mess by covering up her true feelings with a stoic or confident expression. However, it was impossible now.

"…Oh my God…" He had murdered this girl's father… right in front of her eyes! 'What have I done?' was his only thought, and he felt simply horrible.

"He was an awful man," Franziska all but whispered. "Biologically he may have been my father, but… he never cared in the least. He deserved what he got, and…" She raised her head to try and look confident. "…and I'm glad he's gone."

Gregory continued to watch her, this statement only slightly lessening his guilt. She looked shaken, and even if she wasn't upset about losing her father, she had still just witnessed a murder. He didn't know what to say or do. How do you interact with someone in this situation?

"Dad…?"

Jumping slightly, Gregory looked to his son. "Yes, Miles?" he acknowledged the younger man.

Miles was looking down at the photo, amazed at what he was seeing. "Is that… r-really… me?" It was impossible! There was no way he could look like that! That man was so handsome, well groomed, and had not a single blemish on his face.

His father laughed. "Of course that's you, Son," he replied, ruffling Miles' hair a bit. "And, in a couple of weeks or so, you'll look just like that again. I'm sure of it!"

The young man was smiling now. "Can… Can I see more pictures?" he asked excitedly, leaning forward a little more and trying to ignore the increasing pain in his ribs.

This time, it was Franziska who laughed. "That's what I brought them for," she told him, giving him her best kind smile, though it was still rather sad. She flipped the page to reveal two photos, each showing one of them standing in court behind the prosecutor's desk. In Miles' picture, he was wearing his signature red suit in perfect order and he had his arms folded, a confident stare angled slightly to the left of the camera due to its position off to his left.

Franziska's photo had been taken from the same angle and she was wearing the formal black and white, long-sleeve dress and black gloves that was her trademark courtroom attire, and at the time this photo had been taken, she still carried her whip, which was held up in her right hand.

"These were taken by an acquaintance of ours who has been working in different forms of photography for reporting purposes. They're a bit old, but…"

Gregory scratched the back of his head. "What's that? A whip?"

Franziska laughed nervously. "Oh… Um… I don't, uh… Like I said, these photos are over half a year old. But yes… That's a whip."

"And… is that me too?" Miles asked.

The other two nodded.

"…Wow…" It was still a bit frustrating to him that he couldn't even recognize himself, but this emotion was currently being drown by sheer amazement and curiosity.

Franziska turned the page again and started to laugh once again, this time with amusement. She had seen this picture plenty of times, but it never failed to be entertaining. Miles and Tilea stood about two feet apart, each holding a plastic guitar-shaped game controller and acting as if they were 'shredding' on real guitars, each in some sort of rocker stance. Tilea appeared completely serious about the pose, as if she truly belonged onstage, probably aided by her band T-shirt, skull-and-cross-bones belt buckle, and black jeans. Miles, on the other hand, was in an acceptable stance but looked simply awkward: his face was red with embarrassment and—though he was dressed down from his usual fancy attire—still looked much too formal.

Gregory began to laugh as well while Miles stared on in oblivious curiosity. "What are they doing?" Gregory inquired, still chuckling.

"It's a video game where you sort of… pretend to play a guitar. I think everyone was on a bit of a caffeine high that day." Franziska grinned down at the picture, the memory of all the fun she had had on these occasions, hanging out with Tilea and Ares like a normal young adult. She had loosened up quite a bit during those three months and had realized just how much better it truly made her feel. She had learned what it meant to have friends and to simply enjoy being alive, something she had never known in her life as the von Karma heir.

"Who's that woman?" Gregory asked, pointing to the redhead.

"That's Phoenix!" Miles exclaimed, happy to finally know something for a change. "I mean…" He hesitated, looking across the room at the unconscious man he remembered from his childhood. "… The one that's a woman…"

Franziska smiled, choosing to find this display amusing rather than sad for her own sake. "That is the medium that's channeling you," she told Gregory. "She's a good friend of ours and has been helping Miles for a couple of weeks now until we could find a way to get him out. She's also an FBI agent."

Gregory blinked. "Wow… That's… quite a résumé she's got there."

"And this—" Franziska pointed to the photo on the right hand side of the two currently displayed. "—is Ares." In the photo, the young man was grasping a tree branch with both hands and hanging upside-down by swinging his knees up on top of it. "He's Tilea's partner and closest friend."

"And… where is he?" Gregory inquired hesitantly.

Franziska remained silent for a moment, looking at the picture they were speaking about. "He… If… everything went well, he's getting medical attention… right now." Her smile had left her face as she recalled the gunshot and the sight of this young man flying backward down the flight of stairs into the basement. It had been a terrifying sight and now left her with much worry.

Gregory's expression became one of sympathy and concern. "I… truly hope that you have suffered no more losses here today. And… on that note, I should probably take my leave… so that you may call for help."

"N-no! Father, don't leave!" Miles looked at him pleadingly, reaching forward to grab his father's arm. "I… I want to… be able to talk to you when I get better…" The tears were welling up again, and it was a heart-wrenching sight for the other two.

Gregory stood and bent down to hug his son again. "Miles, it's all right. I have to go now, and when you're better… well, I hope you won't remember any of this." It was a depressing thought, but it was probably the best thing for Miles' in the long run.

Miles shook his head, the tears falling again. "No, I don't want to… forget seeing you, F-Father. I… I…"

"Shh," Gregory hushed him gently. "Son, I can't stay, and you're going to be all right. Just as long as you remember me—not as you've seen me today but as you saw me seventeen years ago—that's all that matters."

"Will I ever… s-see you again?" Miles asked, his voice muffled as he spoke against the other man's shoulder.

"Of course you will," was his reply. "But… Well, let's hope that's a good fifty or sixty years off, and by that time, I'm sure you'll have a lot to talk to me about."

Miles didn't really understand, but he tried to calm himself for his father. "O-okay… G-goodbye… Father…"

"Goodbye, Son," Gregory said. "Get some rest and be strong. You'll get through this and then you and Franziska can live happily together again."

Miles sobbed as his father carefully readjusted him on the bed to a more comfortable—and probably less dangerous—position. Gregory then turned to Franziska, who had closed the album and was now standing with it held against her chest.

"Thank you," he said, giving her a kind smile. "I wish you and your friends the best of luck and you'll always have my gratitude for going through so much to save my son."

Franziska smiled shyly. "O-of course," she stammered. "And… we all owe you thanks as well. I mean… you're the one who… finished it all."

Gregory gave a respectful bow of his head, still wearing that smile. "Take care of him for me, will you?"

Franziska nodded, her grin widening. "As always."

And as she watched, an eerie light surrounded the man standing before her and he began to dissolve into it, his gentle expression the last thing she saw of him before the light became solid. Then, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared and before her stood Tilea, eyes closed and hair hanging in her face as she held her head low. She seemed to hang in suspended animation for a few moments, and then she fell. With a gasp, Franziska dived to catch her before she hit the ground, and managed to slightly break her fall, but the red-haired woman was out cold.

With a sad sigh, Franziska stood and began scanning the floor of the cabin looking for her cell phone, which she assumed must have dropped from her pocket during the struggle she would never forget for the rest of her days.


	22. Chapter 22

Good Enough 

(I'm back again! And a **HUGE** thanks to Ivy deLean for her help with the flashback in this chapter! Hope you all enjoy!)

Chapter 22

…What a strange sensation…

…Was someone dripping water on him?

No… No, it didn't feel like that. It was wet, but…

The sensation came with the slightest pressure; that meant it wasn't just wetness. Something solid and wet was brushing against his face.

'Now what on Earth could that be…?'

He moved his head slightly as the feeling in it began to return, and at this point he became aware of his upper body, which felt strangely heavy. What was going on here; nothing felt right at all. Or maybe… maybe there was just something sitting on his chest. Sure, that's what it must have been.

As soon as he had moved, there was a change in the pressure on his chest, as if whatever it was had shifted. Then, the wet feeling against his face was replaced by something… fuzzy, and then something cold and wet, but with a different texture than the first thing.

Okay, now he really needed to know what was going on. He made an attempt at opening his eyes, which he had only just become aware were closed. It wasn't nearly as easy as it should have been, causing his first attempt at it to fail. Another thing he realized was how weak he was; moving seemed unnaturally laborious. Still, he tried again, and this time he managed to force his eyelids open halfway.

A mist of blur was all he could see. He closed them and opened them a second time, hoping to clear away some of the fog. It worked—though his vision was still a bit out of focus—and he saw a soft white lighting to his surroundings that could only be the light of day coming into a room through a window with no other light source. It was dim enough to not be painful, but bright enough so that he would be able to see features of his surroundings should he choose to look around.

A sudden noise caused his body to jolt as he took in a sharp breath of air. It was loud and very close by, but thankfully it only lasted a fraction of a second. He blinked again, and this time something came into view, a furry canine face just inches from his own, light brown fur covering the top half of the face and pointed ears and white fur on the chin and below. Two sparkling black eyes stared back at him and a tongue—which he assumed had been what was sliding across his face—hung out of an open mouth as the animal panted excitedly. Fortunately, his sense of smell hadn't quite returned just yet.

"…Pess?"

"He's awake!"

For the second time in a matter of a few moments, Miles found himself startled. The dog barked again and then someone else was upon him, arms around his shoulders and head against the side of his neck. Miles lay perfectly still as his brain struggled to register this new addition to his immediate vicinity.

He could see light gray hair with a bluish tint, but he couldn't see the person's face. So… who was hugging him? The only thing he recognized was his dog…

Meanwhile, Phoenix Wright breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Franziska hug a very confused and barely awake Miles Edgeworth. He had high hopes considering Miles had recognized and even spoken the name of his household pet, but he had yet to show any signs of recognition toward his lover. 'Then again…' Wright thought with an inward frown. 'He did name that dog after his childhood pet, and if I remember correctly… they look almost exactly alike…' He remembered that Miles had had a dream about a specific day they had spent together when they were nine years old, which had caused him to remember his father. If his old pet had also been in that dream… Well… maybe it wasn't just a coincidence. They would just have to wait and see.

Wright began to look around the room to observe the other people occupying it. To his left on the window ledge sat Maya, and in her lap sat little Pearl. He was surprised the two of them had stayed so quiet in light of Edgeworth's awakening, but then again they were both probably still in a bit of a state of shock after seeing him like this. In the couple days he had been here, the nurses had managed to patch him up a bit, but he looked half-dead nonetheless. Although, it had been Maya's idea to bring Pess to the hospital. The nurses had protested, but the woman sitting to his right had quite a bit of say in most things.

Phoenix Tilea sat on the other side of the defense attorney, stone-faced and silent. She had barely spoken a word since they had all been reunited, and any smile she might have given was brief and forced. No one had seen or heard anything about Ares at all. Detective Gumshoe—who sat on a desk directly across the room from the bed—had informed them that a group of EMTs had arrived and taken the young man out to an ambulance, but after that there had been no word at all. Therefore, Tilea believed him dead, and they had all assumed she was simply beyond tears. However, Wright had made sure that the others stayed optimistic about it. _"No news is good news," _he had stated in hopes of cheering Tilea up a bit and keeping the overall mood from being too gloomy when Edgeworth awoke.

"Mr. Nick?"

"Eh?" Wright's expression became one of confusion as he was snapped out of his reverie by the tiny voice to his left. It registered finally, and he turned his head to see Pearl looking up at him with her big, innocent eyes. "Yes, Pearls?"

"Miss von Karma is Mr. Edgeworth's special someone, right?" The ten-year-old had glanced over at the pair of them—Franziska still embracing a now curious instead of confused Miles—and then looked back up at him.

"Um… Y-yes, Pearls, She is."

Maya laughed a little. "Of course she is, Pearly! Remember when we all went to dinner with them?"

Pearl nodded, but still looked… troubled? "But… if she is his special someone, why isn't he hugging her back?"

Maya and Phoenix looked at each other with wide eyes, then quickly glanced back over to the two prosecutors. It was true: Miles was not returning Franziska's embrace, but they understood why. However, it must have looked odd to this little girl who looked at love in a fairy tale sort of way. "Well, Pearly… Um… Mr. Edgeworth is really hurt right now," Maya tried to explain while avoiding any traumatizing details. "He would most definitely be hugging her too if he could."

Pearl's eyes became even wider, and then a sad expression crossed her adorable face. "Poor Mr. Edgeworth. He can't even hug his special someone."

Just then, Wright saw something move near the door and looked up to see one of the nurses stepping into the room and looking around. "Oh," she said, her eyes widening briefly. "I'll have to alert the doctor that he's awake. Um…" She paused, looking around the room. It had been made clear that the hospital staff was not pleased with having so many people in the room, but once again, they weren't about to argue with Tilea, and speaking of her. "I'm… looking for a Miss Phoenix Tilea."

Tilea raised her head slightly, her bright red bangs shadowing dead black eyes. "Yes?"

The RN looked a little nervous addressing her, but only hesitated for a moment. "Could you please come with me? One of the doctors has asked to speak with you."

No emotion crossed the young woman's face, but she seemed to mull this over for a moment before standing silently and following the nurse out of the room.

Franziska raised her head to see Tilea leaving, then looked back at Miles to see his eyes following her, coming back after she was out of sight. He looked mostly unaware, but she could see a bit of wonder in his bandaged face. "Miles?"

He stared up at her, waiting for more.

"Do… Do you know who that was?"

He blinked, and then his gaze shifted to the ceiling. She could practically see the gears turning as he strained to pull his thoughts together. Finally, his gray eyes were on her again, and his raspy voice issued just above a whisper. "Phoenix."

Franziska nodded. "And… him?" She turned and pointed at the man sitting on the window ledge.

Wright sat very still as Miles stared over at him, as if moving would throw the other man off track.

"Wright… Phoenix Wright." His tone hadn't changed in the slightest, though this time he spoke with a bit more hesitation.

The German woman nodded again, and then pointed to Detective Gumshoe. "Him?"

A pause, and then, "…Detective… Detective…" His lips stayed parted as he tried with all of his brainpower to remember the man's name, but all he could remember was his title. He couldn't do it, and Gumshoe's shoulder drooped along with Franziska's hopes.

"And them?" The last two people in the room were Maya and Pearl. This would determine whether or not he had regained any of his memory from before being kidnapped, or if everything he knew he had learned in that hour or so he had spent with them before coming to the hospital.

Miles stared at the two girls, but saw only strangers. "No," he replied, looking apologetic. Maya's expression saddened, but she understand and didn't say anything. Pearl, however, looked mortified.

"Mr. Edgeworth! You know us! It's me, Pearl Fey, and Mystic Maya, my big cousin!"

"Pearls." Wright leaned over and took hold of the little girl's hand. "Calm down."

"B-but," the child protested. "He says he doesn't know who—"

"Um, Nick, maybe we should…"

"Good idea." Phoenix stood up and Maya followed suit, holding onto Pearl's hand. "We'll be back later, Edgeworth."

"I'm sorry…" The injured prosecutor looked ashamed. He knew that he was supposed to know these people, but… he just didn't remember.

"It's okay, Mr. Edgeworth!" Maya was grinning from ear to ear at him. "I'm sure you'll be better in no time, and then Nick will take us all out for dinner! Won't you, Nick?"

"Uhm… S-sure…." Phoenix scratched the back of his head. He could only hope that Maya was only putting on a show to try and cheer up their friend. "L-let's go. You coming, Detective Gumshoe?"

"Uh… Sure, pal." Gumshoe straightened up and turned to follow the other's, glancing over his shoulder to say a quick, "I'll see you later, Mr. Edgeworth," before disappearing out the door.

A heavy silence fell over the remaining two occupants of the room, both staring at the door for the longest time. Franziska felt nothing but sadness and dread. All he could remember was what he had learned while in the chopper. They had all been hoping that he would regain at least a small portion of his memory while asleep, but it didn't appear as though he had. She was almost afraid to ask if he recognized her. He had known her name when they had found him, but he had no idea—

"Franziska."

Shocked, she looked over at him and their eyes met. "Y-yes?"

"That's your name, right?" He looked nervous, hoping that he had gotten it correct. Somehow, he knew that it mattered even more to her than it had the others.

She blinked in confusion. "Y-yes… Yes, it is."

Relief crossed his features. "At least I still know that…" His gaze traveled downward to the small dog now curled up contently on his legs, which he couldn't feel at all. He felt as if his mind had been shattered into millions of tiny pieces, and like shards of glass, he had to search carefully for each one, making sure not to miss any. So far, he had only recovered a few of the pieces, and they didn't fit together at all. He couldn't seem to connect anything. He only knew their names and that they had saved him, but he should know more. He just couldn't—

"Miles?"

He blinked up at her and she already regretted what she was about to ask. She didn't know why she was doing this to herself because she already knew the answer. "Do you remember… us? Do you remember what you mean to me?"

He looked up into the hopeful eyes of a stranger. He knew she wasn't a stranger to him, but she might as well have been someone he had only met once in his life, for there was only one instance he could remember, and at that time he had still only known her name. So, he had no chain of events to backtrack along for help, and he felt immense guilt as he realized how much he was about to hurt her. If only there was something he could say… something that might give her a vague hope that he knew her. "I… I know there is something there, I just… I need time to… to find it again."

She fought back the tears with all of her might. Just the simple fact that he seemed to have regained the slightest sense of himself was very reassuring. His speech was no longer choppy and immature; she could now speak to him more like an adult instead of an ill child. He understood his condition and he understood what had happened and what needed to happen. He just couldn't remember.

"Well… You should try and get some more rest," Franziska finally stated, brushing her bangs back from her eyes. "I'm going to… go see where Phoenix went. I will come see you again later in the evening." With that, she stood up and headed for the door, offering one glance back at him.

"Goodbye, Franziska."

Her smile just barely reached her eyes, and she vanished through the open door.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_The sterile air and rhythmic beeping were the first things to come to his attention as the heavy darkness faded away. His mind snapped right into action; he was at a hospital. More specifically, he was lying in a hospital bed on his stomach and listening to his own heart rate in an irritating beep form. Miles took in a deep, shaky breath and turned his head to the side as he cautiously opened his eyes to avoid being blinded by the fluorescent lights above._

_And she was the first thing he saw._

"_M-Miles!" The twelve-year-old German girl sat up straight in her chair suddenly as she saw his eyes flutter open. Franziska looked utterly exhausted, as if she had been sitting in that chair even since being allowed in the room, though he had no idea how long that was exactly. _

"_Franziska?" Now that he had registered exactly where he was and who was with him, he realized that he couldn't quite remember why he was there. He began to think back to figure it out, but Franziska's voice interrupted his thoughts._

"_H-how do you feel?" she asked timidly, not at all herself as she watched him lie here broken and battered like this, and the memory of how it had all happened only made her feel even weaker._

"_I don't." Even with a mild concussion, he didn't miss a beat. It was indeed true though; he felt as if he was just a severed head lying on the pillow. They had apparently pumped him so full of pain medication that he wasn't even aware of his own body. However, the fact that they had placed him on his stomach suddenly gave him a clue, and the memory slowly fazed back into existence. "How long… have I been here?"_

"_A week." She was mumbling so that he could just barely catch what she was saying, as if she was afraid of being overheard. "They thought… you might have gone into a coma at first, but… I guess they were able to bring you out of it before it got too serious."_

"_And… are you all right?" He had blacked out as soon as her father had walked away, his defense of her no longer able to hold up. She didn't look hurt, but then again, he had been out for a week. _

"_I'm… I'm okay. I've been… staying here at the hospital." She glanced around momentarily, an understandable paranoia setting in. "Father has to pretend he cares when we're here. He wouldn't dare do or say anything here, although I think letting me stay here is overdoing the whole 'kindness' thing a bit too much, but I'm not complaining."_

_Miles listened to her with a frown etched into his face, though its effect was blurred by the drugs. "So what's the story?" he asked bitterly._

"_What do you mean?" Franziska asked, eyeing him thoughtfully._

"_How did this happen to me, according to your father?" He knew there was a story, a cover-up, and he knew Franziska would not dare to speak the truth about the situation. Nobody would ever believe that the perfect Manfred von Karma would ever beat the poor orphan boy he had so generously adapted into a near coma with his cane. _

_Franziska looked away, clutching the sleeves of her dress as she kept her arms folded. Her head was down as she spoke bitterly. _

"You...you were climbing a tree. Father told you not to...but you wouldn't listen...You were...rebelling...being ungrateful to the man who had taken you in after your father's death. A-and then the limb snapped..." 

_She paused at this point, biting her lip to keep from sounding anything other than angry at her father... It killed her to have to lie like this to everyone about Miles' condition. "You fell... You were up so high...Father says he watched helplessly... He couldn't do anything to save you because of him being so physically incapable due to his age." _

Perhaps these lines were the worst to ever escape her lips, for that was how she spoke them.

"And your body hit every limb on its way down... and you landed on the ground... only a foot from where he was standing... trying to catch you!"

She turned toward Miles with tears in her blue-gray eyes. "He nearly killed you, Miles... a-and I have to lie and watch him get all the praise... What happens... What happens when he finds out you're awake? I-I might have to go back home!" she reached out and clutched onto his arm, fear apparent in her body language and in her voice. "I'll be next, Miles! And this time, he won't take any chances! Miles, I can't leave here! He'll ki-"

"Guten tag… Franziska..."

They both froze; Miles' eyes were glued on Franziska's face, which held a look of sheer horror upon it. She had been caught. Her paranoia radar had checked out on her, and now here she was, clutching onto Miles' arm and letting her emotions show while her father entered the room.

How long had he been standing there? The whole time?

She turned slowly, fearfully, shrinking back and trembling. "G-guten tag... Vater..." she whispered. She did not release Miles' arm; she clung to it like a lifeline, though in his state he could do nothing for her. She felt his hand close around her skinny forearm, but he was no longer looking at her. 

"_Ah, I see you've awakened, Miles Edgeworth." With a hidden smirk, Manfred moved around the bed and came to stand behind Franziska's chair, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. She cringed as his touch and made a small and choked noise of fear, her fingers digging into the thin fabric of Miles' hospital garb. This only caused the German man to grip her more tightly, and she closed her eyes against the feeling. He would not strike her while in this public place, but… she couldn't help her fear. "Tell me, Boy, have you learned anything?"_

_Miles glared up at him, all regard for safety lost. "Quite a lot," he replied, his tone acid. "And I would like to share it with you some time… Sir." He added the form of address as if its taste revolted him._

_Manfred noticed the tone of voice, and a glare replaced his former expression. "Very well then, Boy. Franziska…" He removed his hand from the girl's shoulder and looked down at her. "Go wait in the car."_

"_Y-yes… Father…" A sob shook her small frame as she gave Miles one last helpless look, and then she walked quickly from the room, wiping the moisture from her face as she went. Miles watched her go; outwardly, he was impassive, but inside a fire raged, and this man was about to discover it._

"_So," Manfred began, folding his arms and leaning up against the wall parallel to the bed and facing Miles. "What is it you wish to say? I __**encourage **__you to speak your mind." There was nothing about his statement that wasn't threatening, but Miles had no fear._

"_First of all," Miles began, his tone still acid and unaffected by the painkillers, "your cover-up story is bullshit, and should I decide to press charges, I'm sure an investigation would expose such a pathetic lie. In fact, I find it beyond comprehension that anyone could believe you have such a bleeding heart." His temper was rising as he spoke, and he only wished he wasn't forced to lie here and look sideways and up at this man; he wanted to face him head-on, standing at his full height while he said this. _

_Manfred's glare intensified upon hearing the words and the tone in which they were spoken. The __**nerve **__of this boy! "And how does being completely vulnerable make you braver? I suggest you watch your attitude or—"_

"_Or what, Manfred?" No 'Sir' this time around; he'd had it! "You'll beat the hell out of me in the ICU? You might have a lot of influence, but I'm willing to bet that you won't get away with that one." A bitter smile rested on his lips as he said this, but it vanished as he began his next sentence. "And secondly, if you lay another hand on Franziska, I will see to it that you __**rot **__in prison. Do I make myself clear?"_

_Manfred's response to this was laughter. "What was that, Boy?! You're going to put __**me **__in prison!? I wish you luck in that endeavor!"_

"_Shut up!" The fierce and sharp command came as a surprise to the older man, and he quieted, his face suddenly flashed with anger. However, it was nothing compared to the fires now blazing in Miles' unclouded gray eyes. "In three months I'm taking the bar exam, and then I'll be leaving for America. During those three months, if you harm a single hair on her head, she will come with me. We'll start our careers in prosecuting there, and our first order of business will be to destroy you." _

_This was all said in a vicious hiss, and he wasn't through. "I don't know what you see me as, Manfred, but I am nineteen years old and a legal adult. Franziska will be thirteen by the time I leave and old enough to decide what she wants to do, and—as ridiculous as it may sound to you—I am fairly certain she would rather stay with me if it meant never having to endure your sadistic abuse ever again. She'll testify to every bruise and cut you've ever left upon her, to your attempt on my life as I tried to __**protect her from you**__, as well as your attempt on __**her**__ life two years ago, and I'm sure that when we get a proper investigation underway, these cliché cover-ups we've been forced to vomit all these years will be revealed for what they really are: LIES!"_

_By this time, von Karma's face was burning red with anger. "You keep your mouth shut, Boy, or I will—"_

"_Don't threaten me!" Miles interrupted with a snarl. "This conversation is over! I've stated my point and it will stand, so either send Franziska back up here so you won't have to 'resist the temptation', or take her home and leave her the hell alone! Now, __**get out.**__"_

"_Miles Edgeworth, you—"_

"_Herr von Karma, is there a problem?"_

_A nurse stood in the doorway to Miles' room, looking quite frightened at the sight of the two men, faces flushed with fury. Manfred seemed to deflate considerably as the reality of their location penetrated his blind rage. He unclenched the fist he had formed, folded his arms, and changed his snarl to a look of mild irritation. _

"_Nothing at all, meine Frau." He turned sharply and proceeded toward the door at a brisk walk, Miles watching him go with the deadliest of looks. He had not allowed his anger to subside or be hidden; he was beyond caring what the other people in the hospital thought at this point. _

"_H-Herr Edgeworth?" The nurse was looking at him with wide eyes. "B-bist du--?"_

"_I'm fine," he replied flatly, turning his face toward his pillow to hide it. He didn't really expect to see Franziska reappear in the room, but he would call her every night that he had to stay in this place and find out what was going on around there. He would hold true to his threat; if he harmed her, Miles would pursue conviction until the very end. He would not tell Franziska of this unless the situation arose, of course, and he knew for sure that she would not hear about this conversation from her father. _

_For now, Miles would savor his victory. Even if his warning was not heeded, he had still dominated that argument and would make his sincerity clear in the courtroom. However, for Franziska's sake, he would hope that he didn't have to. If no more harm would come to her by his hand, then Miles was willing to tell the tale about how Manfred von Karma had tried so hard to save his life._


	23. Chapter 23

Good Enough 

(I'm back again! I've got just a couple little scenes and a nice little flashback for you, so hope you guys like it!

Oh, and once again, if you're interested in joining a PW roleplay, check out my profile. The board is getting quite a lot of attention so far!)

Chapter 23

The long, fluorescent lights above seemed to pass by of their own accord along with the rest of the scenery. She wasn't walking; she couldn't have been, for she was too numb and dazed. However, there was no one around whose attention was upon her and her location was most certainly changing, so… she must have been walking. There was no other explanation.

Phoenix Tilea moved mechanically down the hallway of the ICU, bright red bangs nearly concealing her obsidian eyes entirely. Everything was in a haze, voices didn't register or form words around her, and how she knew where she was going, she could not have guessed. She felt empty, hollow, incomplete, shattered… To cope with his death, she had detached herself from the world around her; it was Hell without him, and she refused to live in it. However, she could not abandon them, not after everything. To join him would have been selfish, not what he would have wanted her to do.

She glided around a corner and nearly crashed into the doctor standing there. The man jumped back, but she simply stopped without a reaction. "M-Miss Tilea." The doctor looked a bit taken-aback by the sight of the young woman standing in front of him. She looked unaware, as if sleepwalking, but she was indeed hearing him, though it was in a distant fog. "Miss Tilea, please follow me." Giving her one last concerned look, the doctor turned to lead her a little farther down the hall, and she followed automatically.

He led her to a closed door and stopped, stepping out of the way. "You may go inside," he stated, watching as she reached for the handle and pulled the door open with no emotion or question.

"Mew!"

She froze, her dark eyes fixed on the sight before her as her lips parted in utter shock.

How could this be?

"Damn it, Oreo! I wanted to say 'hello' first!"

The fog suddenly vanished and she practically flew across the room, leaping with her arms outstretched to wrap them around his shoulders. Gray eyes widened momentarily, and then Ares embraced her in return. Bright red hair fell over his pale face, and he ignored the slight pain her weight was causing him in his state.

"Oh my God! Ares, I… I thought…. I thought you were…"

"Heh." Ares nudged her a bit so that she pushed herself up to look at him, removing her weight from his torso. "Yeah, me too. Damn, Phoenix, you look worse than me."

Until now, Tilea had not been aware of the tears now dripping down her cheeks and she hastily wiped them away. "Don't you _ever _scare me like that again, you hear!?"

Ares laughed weakly, causing the small black and white cat lying on him to leap up. First, she had been nearly crushed by Phoenix, and now he was quaking! How annoying! "Hey, it was either throw myself down the stairs or be shot in the head," he told her with a smile that most would believe did not belong in this conversation. "I figured the first choice had a better percentage of survival."

Phoenix closed her eyes momentarily and swallowed hard. "Why didn't… anyone tell me you were alive?"

"You guys got sent back here to the U.S. while they were still trying to make sure I was going to live," Ares replied. "They didn't even bother identifying me until I was conscious, at which point I told them that I wanted to be transferred back to LA. They didn't know I was even affiliated with you at all."

Tilea frowned. "Guess they missed the badge, huh?" She moved off of the bed and sat down heavily in the chair beside him, Oreo immediately leaping up onto her lap to settle down. "Miles just woke up about ten minutes ago," she said, looking down and stroking the purring animal.

"Oh yeah?" Ares was staring up at the ceiling as he spoke. "How's he doing?"

"I was called out before I could really assess him, though I have to admit I might not have really been up to it had I not come in here first." She finally turned to look at him. "He didn't seem much more aware, but I think there has been a bit of progress as far as his thought process goes. I'll have to go back and speak with him to really know for sure." Just like that, she had returned to her old self. As soon as she had seen him alive, she had returned to full awareness, full life. It was as if none of it had ever happened.

Just then, there was a light knock at the door and it opened slowly. Both agents looked up and locked eyes with a startled Franziska von Karma. "A-Ares?"

"Hey, Franziska." He grinned over at her and a look of joyous relief crossed the German woman's face. Quickly, she moved into the room and over to offer Ares a friendly embrace, not quite as enthusiastic—or painful—as Tilea's.

"Ares, we thought…"

He laughed again. "I know. Phoenix told me. You guys are pretty pessimistic, you know that?"

Upon hearing this, both women snorted with laughter, and it was Tilea who called him out on it. "Look who's talking, Captain Razorblade."

"Oh, shut up!" He smacked her on the upper arm as she laughed. "Well, in any case, I'm alive and I want to know what the hell I missed. So how 'bout it?"

With a smirk, Tilea leaned sideways over him and spoke the two words in a drawn-out and rather high-pitched tone of voice. "Say pleeeeeaaase…"

"Ugh!" Ares pushed her away and cringed.

Franziska was stifling laughter behind her hand. "Would you two behave?"

Both Phoenix and Ares looked at her, and without even glancing at one another, replied simultaneously. "Say pleeeeeaaase!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Franziska awoke with a soft groan, the stiffness of her muscles painful enough to have woken her from her light sleep. She sat up straight in the chair and leaned her head back, turning it back and forth to crack her neck. It gave a loud pop and she hissed quietly, now moving her hand up to rub her own neck and shoulders. She muttered something in German under her breath, certain that the other occupant of the dark room was too far gone to hear her.

"Are you okay?"

Franziska snapped her head up toward the voice, but there was no light in the room. However, she knew now that he was awake and was probably looking at her. She reached over and turned on a dim lamp on the desk near her, bringing the room's features into more detail and allowing her to see his face.

Yes, Miles was indeed wide awake and looking in her direction. She wondered curiously how long he had been up, for there were no signs of sleep in his slightly misted gray eyes. "I'm… all right," she finally replied, rubbing her own eyes now. She was exhausted and very stiff; she had been sleeping in this chair each night since he had been placed here, so she had gotten very little sleep since arriving, though her sleep had not been peaceful or steady for the past two months anyway.

"Why don't you… lie down?" He was looking at her with concern, knowing full well that her position was not a comfortable one.

Franziska lowered her head and placed a hand over her forehead. "There isn't a place for me to lie down," she replied. "And… I want to stay with you. I'll be—"

She looked up suddenly and saw that his hand had moved from its place resting over his chest clasping his blanket to now reach toward her. She blinked at him, a bit confused and hesitant. "Miles?"

"You can lie down here if you'd like."

Amazed, she reached out and took hold of his hand in both of hers. "Miles… Y-you… You remember?" She was suddenly wide awake, hope and near desperation shining in her tired eyes as she gazed upon him.

Miles seemed to hesitate at her sudden urgency, and his head lowered slightly as he tried to work out his response. He felt her grip on his hand slacken a bit, and knew that this action had crushed her hopes, so he quickly inhaled and returned his gaze to her. "More than... I did," he said quickly in an attempt to recover. "I know that… you're someone very important to me, and… and I'm really glad you're here with me."

Well, it wasn't what she had been hoping for, but she had to tell herself that this was more than anyone had expected of him so soon. She worked a warm smile onto her face and stood, moving to stand over him. "And… I'll be here until you remember everything," she said, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face.

He looked up at her, an odd curiosity in his eyes. "…And then?"

"Huh?" Hers held confusion now, and the hand that had touched his hair was now clasping the collar of her shirt nervously. "W-what do you mean?"

"After I remember everything… Then what happens?"

She stared at him, lips slightly parted and eyes a bit wider than normal. Her grip on his hand had slackened a bit without her knowledge, and he glanced down at it quickly before returning his gaze to her face, waiting for a response.

Then what? Why… she hadn't expected ever have to answer that question. She had just expected to go on with life, take things as they came. Sure, she had hopes, but no plans. Besides, she had no idea what he would be like in the near future. What if this experience had forever changed him? What if… he became distant? What if… he no longer wanted to be with her?

As these fears played around in her head, she was silent and still, and this concerned him. Miles began to rethink, wondering if he should simply disregard his own question for her benefit. It was obvious it had upset or frightened her, though he hadn't intended either to happen.

"Miles, I… I don't know how to answer that." She could come up with nothing more than the truth. Every answer she had thought up seemed wrong in some way, and he was not half-aware as he had been back in Germany. He would understand and remember what she said, and false promises or hopes were not something she cared to give him, for they were not something she would want to be given.

Miles watched her for another few moments before speaking again. "Well… what… do you want to happen?"

Okay, so maybe this was a bit more straightforward, but it was still a difficult question nonetheless. Franziska stayed in her position for a moment, and then sighed, lowering her head and releasing Miles' hand so that she could walk around to the other side of the bed. Carefully, she crawled in beside him and lay on her side facing him, reaching across his stomach to take his hand once more and laying her head on his shoulder. "I just want you to recover," she said finally. "And… then I want things to go back to the way they used to be before this nightmare started. I know… you probably don't remember it right now, but… but you will, and when that time comes, you'll understand."

Miles looked down at her, that same look of curiosity that had become so familiar to her even though he had only been awake for a short amount of time. He remembered her, yes, but it was different. In his memory, she had been much younger, and… he had thought of her as his sister… right? Well… she wasn't really his sister; he knew that for sure, but… obviously her feelings for him had changed. So… had his changed for her as well? Or… maybe this was just like when they were children, when they secretly needed the comfort of the other. Was this like when he would lie with her while she cried herself to sleep after—

Wait a minute…

He remembered their childhood? How was it that a single dream had suddenly brought back so much? He hadn't even realized it until now but… he remembered her… as a child.

Now, if only he knew her now. If only he could be sure what this embrace meant. Was it a sisterly gesture, or… something more?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_"Miles Edgeworth, how can you just pack up and leave like this!?"_

_"Franziska, please calm down. It's not like we'll never see each other again. I just—"_

_"You've been here for ten years! Why would you want to go back to America!? You don't even know what it's like over there anymore!"_

_"I honestly don't think it could have changed that much, and as long as I know the legal system, there's no problem." Miles flipped the clasps closed on another suitcase and tossed it aside, finally turning to look at her. "I'm sorry, Franziska, I would just prefer to make a name for myself in my home country."_

_The thirteen-year-old girl stood with her arms folded, glaring at him from the door of his bedroom. She was running out of arguments, and she wasn't about to start giving him her real reasons for wanting him to stay. "But… Miles Edgeworth… this is your home now, isn't it?"_

_Miles had been reaching for a small leather bag to be used for carry-on, but he froze, and then looked at her, his eyes suddenly holding a depth that no one had ever seen but the young girl standing before him._

_"…This is not a home," he stated, his voice only just above a whisper, but clear as day. He turned without another word, picking up the bag and moving off to his adjoining bathroom, leaving Franziska awe-struck in the doorway._

_He was right… but… how could he just leave her here? This house was not a home, it was Hell, and he was just going to leave her on her own. He was leaving her behind._

_Five minutes later, Miles immerged from the bathroom with the leather bag and moved to place it on top of one of his other suitcases, turning around to see that she was still standing there. "Franziska?"_

_"…I don't want you to leave…"_

_He stared at her, unsure of what he thought he had just heard. "What… was that?"_

_"I don't want you to leave!" She looked angry, frustrated, hurt, and so many other things that he couldn't recognize them all, and neither could she. "There! I said it! Happy!?"_

_Now, he was shocked. Yes, he felt bad for leaving her behind, but she had passed the bar exam with flying colors; she was going to be a prosecutor at age thirteen! She would be out of here in no time, and she would make history as the youngest prosecutor to ever step foot in a court of law!_

_And yet…_

_With a sigh, he lowered his head so that his bangs shadowed his eyes. He moved to his bed and sat down on the edge of it, motioning for her to join him. She hesitated, but cautiously came to him, though she did not sit down. She simply stood in front of him, arms crossed, bottom lip curled in, and fighting back those forbidden tears._

_"No, I'm not happy," he finally answered, looking directly into her light gray eyes. The height of his bed allowed him an inch or two on her even while sitting down, but the difference was not extremely noticeable; it was as if he was now at her level instead of towering over her as he normally did. "I wouldn't be doing this if I had a choice; you know that."_

_"I'm not so sure that's the truth." She was using anger to hide her sadness, and it was more obvious than she cared for it to be. "This is your chance to get out of here; why wouldn't you take it?"_

_"And your chance isn't that far away, Franziska."_

_She lowered her head, now staring at the floor. "Why… can't you stay with me until then?"_

_Miles sighed again, looking down at his hands before raising his chin once more to look at her, though she did not meet his gaze. "Your father wants me to go to America with him now; he won't allow me to stay here with you while he is gone this time. Not after… what's happened. He feels that… we've been distracting each other lately, so he is escorting me to America where I'll begin my career while you begin yours here."_

_Silence fell, and she still didn't look up. Her hands were clasped in front of her now, making her look less hostile and more as if she had been defeated. She could not argue with her father's will, and neither could he._

_Miles hesitated for a few seconds, weighing out the consequences of his actions before finally making up his mind. He reached forward and gently cupped her chin in his hand, lifting it so that their gazes finally met and he could see how her eyes shined with unshed tears. "This isn't 'goodbye', Franziska," he said, leaning forward slightly so that she could see the earnestness in his deep, penetrating eyes. "You may call me any time you like, and I will visit you here whenever I get some free time. Who knows? Perhaps one day you could come to America for a while." He smiled at her in a reassuring sort of way, hoping to drive away her fears and sadness._

_She looked at him with unwavering attention as he spoke, and she saw the sincerity in eyes and heard it in his voice. Maybe… Maybe he wasn't just leaving her. Maybe this was really for the best._

_A single sob escaped her, and she closed her eyes for a moment, bringing a hand up to wipe away any of the moisture that might have leaked from them. When she reopened them, they were clearer, though still held a forlorn look that gave Miles no relief from his guilt. Slowly, she moved forward and climbed up onto his lap, kneeling on his thighs and facing him. He placed his hands on her waist to keep her from falling and she placed her hands on his shoulders for a similar purpose._

_For long moments they simply gazed at each other, and then with shaking breath, Franziska slowly leaned forward, bending her head down past his and placing her lips against the side of his neck. Miles lurched with surprise, but then he was still, taking in a slow, trembling breath and staring at the wall in front of him. The sensation had sent waves of electricity through him, and it was taking all he had to keep his composure. She had no idea of what she was doing to him, still so young and innocent… His guilt was now for a different reason._

_He held her firmly, his lips parted as if he was making a compromise between his mind and his body. He would enjoy this, but not too much, and he wouldn't let her know. He would keep silent, and he managed this, relief and disappointment setting in when she finally pulled away, removing one of her hands from his shoulder to wipe her face once again._

_"Did I… do it right?" she asked hopefully. "A… kiss. Was that right?"_

_Oh, what an awkward situation he had gotten himself into…_

_His heart was racing, and he knew this was wrong. But… she didn't know any better, and he couldn't find it in himself to try and explain that to her. It would only cause problems anyway, so…_

_He chuckled lightly. "Yes, but… let me show you another way."_

_Translation: "Let me show you a less suggestive way."_

_Now that she was kneeling on him, he had to look up at her, and he lifted his chin to place his lips against hers, only lingering for a fraction of a second before pulling back._

_She blinked at him. "What's… the difference?" she asked, honestly confused._

_"That's the way people usually do it. Well… siblings anyway. I only did it the other way because you weren't looking at me."_

_Nice cover-up!_

_"So… then I did it wrong?" Her gaze was cast downward now._

_"No, no. You didn't," he said quickly, taking hold of one of her hands. "That was a kiss; I just never taught you the normal way of going about it."_

_"Oh… Okay." With her free hand, she wiped her face a third time. "Well… Um…"_

_But whatever she was about to say was interrupted by the all-too-familiar sound of Manfred von Karma's cane thumping against the hardwood floor a few yards down the hall. With a gasp, Franziska leapt down off of Miles' lap and Miles stood up in her absence, moving off to pretend he was checking his carry-on bag for everything, even though he had already done so three times._

_"Are you ready, Boy?" The tall, ominous German man stood in the doorway now, leaning on his cane and watching Miles as the young man zipped up the bag in his hands._

_Miles looked up, all traces of his interaction with Franziska gone from his features. "Yes, Sir," he replied, his face a mask of stone._

_Manfred's cold gaze lingered on the young man for a moment, before shifting to his daughter, who became rather uneasy all of a sudden. "And what are you doing in here, Girl?" he questioned suspiciously. He had become even more prying lately whenever the two of them happened to be in the same room together for any amount of time, and rightly so as far as he was concerned._

_Fortunately, Franziska quickly found an escape. "I was going to help carry out his luggage, Father." In truth, she really did not wish to aid him in leaving her, but if it meant avoiding her father's anger, she would endure it._

_Manfred continued to glare at his daughter for a few tense seconds, and then he decided that it was a passable excuse and looked back at Miles. "I will be out front. Don't keep me waiting." With that, he turned and vanished from sight._

_The atmosphere in the room changed with his leaving, becoming less stifling as both remaining occupants breathed a sigh. Miles reached down to pull one case up and throw the strap over his shoulder before, picking up two more and turning toward the door. Hesitantly, Franziska picked up the last remaining piece of luggage, struggling a bit with the bulky suitcase as she followed Miles out of the room and down the stairs toward the front door._

_Sure enough, Manfred was behind the wheel of his expensive car, looking impatient as usual. Without looking up at the two children, he hit a button to open the trunk, and Miles threw his bags in, turning to remove Franziska's burden and throw it in as well. With a slam, he shut the trunk and turned to open the passenger-side door. However, before he did so, he looked back at Franziska, who—for the sake of not being scolded by her father—had a blank look on her face, her arms folded across her chest._

_"Auf Weidersehen, Miles Edgeworth," she muttered, and Miles hoped her father could not see the tears that were welling in her eyes._

_Miles gave her a warm smile, his face turned away from the older man. "I'll see you around, Franziska."_

_She nodded, his smile vanished, and he opened the car door. She watched him slip into the car and pull the door closed behind him, watched with a terrible pang as he looked straight ahead and not back at her, watched with tearful eyes as the car pulled away, winding down the long driveway and onto the road beyond._

_A cold breeze blew her hair back from her tear-stained face, and Franziska simply stood there, staring down the driveway at nothing._

_"I'll… see you around… Miles…."_


End file.
